The Prize
by thrufirewithoutaburn
Summary: It was a fight Queens just couldn't lose. But when Brooklyn beats them at their own game, the Queens newsies must give up their girl, Alex Mahony, to Spot Conlon. This is their story.
1. The Tournament

The sound of skin colliding on skin and the smell of sweaty boys assaulted Alex's senses. Light barely flooded in from the street lamps and the setting Brooklyn sun through the dirty warehouse windows. The air was thick with tension and competition. She looked out over the usually-empty building, now filled with Newsies. Alex saw the dejected kids from West Side and the Bronx, nearly crying after being defeated in the first round. She looked over at the kids from Harlem and Manhattan, cheering even after their losses. They all surrounded a small ring set up in the middle of the warehouse, excitedly watching the final two boys go at it: Brooklyn and Queens. Spot Conlon fell to the floor after a punch from West Hartell, leader of Queens. Queens' Newsies erupted in cheers and Alex daintily smiled. The whole tournament she fought to keep her cool composure, but the gravity of her situation hit her when she saw the rough looking Brooklyn boys. Her life was on the line.

Next to her, West's second in command, Bear, whooped and hollered. Clapping, he turned to Alex and said,

"Spot looks about done. Looks like youse not going to go to Brooklyn after all!"

Alex smiled.

"I never would have agreed to this if I thought West wouldn't come through for me."

As West moved across the make-shift boxing ring toward where Spot was laid out, Alex remembered him coming to her a few days ago.

"_So, Alex, I gots a question for ya."_

_She smiled at him and continued to stir the large pot of stew she was preparing for the Newsies' dinner. It was almost the three month anniversary of her moving into the Queens Newsboy Lodging House to run the joint, and already she was at home. After taking a sip from the broth to taste, she said,_

"_I already told ya a hundred times I am not going to go out with you, West Hartell!"_

_Her light-hearted jab earned a nervous smile from him. He pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. _

"_Now, keep in mind I wouldn't be asking ya this unless it was absolutely necessary. And if I wasn't absolutely sure there was no danger for ya."_

_Alex turned from the boiling pot to look at him. _

"_What do ya mean?" _

_A pause hung in the air between them._

"_Well, ya rememba last week when the newsie leaders got togeda to discuss somethings?"_

_The girl nodded, impatient for the whole story._

"_We came to the conclusion that it was a good idea to get the newsies back togeda. All of 'em. To- eh- what's the word that 'Hattan used…?" He thought for a moment._

"_Unify the newsies! And to show 'em that we are still in control, all of use leaders. There's been some-"_

_Alex cut him off._

"_Uprisings in Harlem and the Bronx. I'm not stupid."_

"_So, we guys were thinking that maybe we could do a kind of entertainment thing, like we did during the strike. But we wanted to do a kind of boxing match-"_

"_A kind of boxing match?" Alex clarified._

"_We want to do a boxing tournament, Leader against Leader until the last man standing. You knows what I'm saying?"_

"_Yeah. But what are you fighting for? What does the winner get?"_

"_Oh… You know," he nervously rubbed the back of his neck and refused to look her in the eye._

"_Prime selling spots outta territory like at the boat launchings and whatnots, money, other things…." he trailed off to a near whisper._

_A beat passed between them._

"_What kind of things?"_

"_Well, that's what I gotta talk to you about…. You see the fells had expressed interest in acquiring the services of a certain young lady to help around their lodging houses like you help us out and-"_

"_No. I refuse. You wanna get rid of me? Are you-"_

_West gently placed his hand over her mouth. _

"_Alex, there's no way I'm eva gonna lose this tournament. Have you seen me? I'm built like an ox."_

_It was true. Alex looked at him. He was almost two heads taller than her and every inch of him was packed with muscle. _

"_I just gotta up my hand, you know? Show 'em I'm serious about this whole thing."_

_Thinking it over, it made sense. West had only been leader of Queens four months. No one took him seriously as a leader yet. He dropped his hands from her face and took her dainty hands in his. _

"_Please, Alex."_

_She sighed and looked deep into his eyes._

"_Fine."_

_He leapt up and began to celebrate._

"_But I swear to God if you lose to Brooklyn, I will never speak to you again."_

"_I never lose."_

"_And if you do?" she asked._

"_You will be witness to the single most unlikely event in the history of the universe and you will be thanking me."_

Smiling at the memory, Alex looked back down at the boxing ring where Spot was slowing dragging himself to his feet. West looked winded and hurting from the earlier hits that Brooklyn managed to get in on him. She silently cheered her boy on, and watched him get back into his fighting stance. The air was thick with silence until a voice called out over the crowd,

"Heya Spot!"

West turned his head in the direction of the voice. First mistake. Spot used the distraction to deck him. Taken off guard, West fell to the ground. His newsies all shouted their discontentment. On his knees, West put a hand to his jaw in pain. Second mistake. Scot whistled without taking his eyes off West, and suddenly his signature cane came flying into the ring. The entire crowd, minus Brooklyn, gasped in shock. Alex's heart nearly stopped as Spot lithely snatched it out of the air. West looked up at Spot, and hopelessness flooded his face. Alex watched him sit up and swallow his pride. He gave up. Last mistake. Spot weighed the heavy top of his cane in his hand before grasping the bottom, reeling back, and slamming the gold into West's body. It wasn't hard enough to kill him, or even hurt him badly. But it was enough to make the breath in Alex's lungs catch. She watched him crumble, and suddenly felt a cold hand snake it's way around her wrist. Cheers erupted from the Brooklyn newsies and disgruntled noises from everyone else drowned out Alex's shriek.

Spinning around, she locked eyes with a menacing figure. Protectively, Bear stepped next to her.

"You know the rules, Bear. She's ours now."

Bear looked at Alex, apologizing with his eyes. He wordlessly handed her carpet bag back to her and leapt down from the crate.

"M'lady, my name is Bubba," he said, his eyes and his manner taunting her maliciously. He leaned down to kiss her hand, but she ripped herself away. She hopped down from the crate and rushed to the ring.

The crowds from the other boroughs were clearing, leaving a few from Queens, a few from Manhattan, and the whole Brooklyn crew. Alex shoved through them, and saw three of the boys carrying West out. Dropping her bag, she started running after them. Bear intercepted her, grabbing her.

"Let me go! I have to see him!"

People often underestimated her love for West. He was the only family she'd ever known, and the only one who had ever wanted her to be apart of their life. West took her in when she had no where else to go, and she would go to Timbuktu and back for him. Seeing him hurt nearly killed her. And that she could do nothing for him broke her heart even more.

"Alex! He's fine. Stop this! He's going to be okay. He's just knocked out-"

She continued to fight against him, her petite frame doing no damage to his thick stature.

"Give her here."

Struggling, she was transferred from Bear's boulder sized arms to much leaner ones. Held at arm's length, a rough up boy with silver eyes and a harsh expression shook her once sharply.

"Stop. He will be fine."

Alex looked at Bear, and then to the other newsies, then back at the boy. They never saw her express much emotion, she was remarkable at blocking out emotion. Their faces were covered in shock, and all were silent. Composing herself, she pulled away from Brooklyn's arms and faced the boys from Queens. Straightening herself, Alex took her bag from Rabbit- a young newsie who had picked it up.

"We'll miss you, Alex."

She smiled at the boy and tousled his hair. Spot picked up his cap that he lost during Alex's struggle, and picked up his cane. He walked toward Alex, reaching out to take her bag for her. Fluidly, she swung it out of his grasp and held it in her hand over her shoulder. The girl, dropping her smile for a serious expression, began her walk to the Brooklyn Lodging House, resigned to her fate. Smiling, Spot Conlon snapped his fingers, let his men get in order, and followed the girl home.

**Thank you for reading chapter one!!! I'm really excited about my first newsies story! I love Spot/OC stories. Anyone got any recommendations for stories? Please review! It means the world to me!!!**


	2. In Brooklyn

Alex led the way through the dark Brooklyn streets, like a soldier marching into battle. Head held straight, expression blank, back tall, she was the picture of calm. But inside she was shaking. She knew though, if she aloud herself to show her weakness, the boys would be even quicker to pounce on her. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Brooklyn boys carried a reputation for being unsafe. Being from Queens, she knew, couldn't help her case at all. The Brooklyn and Queens newsies hadn't been on the best of terms for a long time, especially since West took over. A thousand scenarios flew through her mind, and she could never settle on what they would do to her. She never bothered to ask West if he put some kind of safety clause on the bet. He wasn't supposed to lose.

Alex turned a corner and saw the Brooklyn bridge flying over the river to her left, and the Newsies Lodging House to her right. Sneaking a glance behind her, she noticed the menacing Brooklyn boys stumbled nearly a half a block behind. Calculating her odds, she realized she could possibly get away with an escape. Sighing, she took a longing look at the bridge. If she left, Spot might see West as a welcher. He entered the tournament to gain respect. Alex refused to be so selfish as to take that away from him. In the newsies world, she knew losing honorably would always be better than welching on a deal. And if she left and got caught, Alex knew with all her heart that Brooklyn's treatment of her would only be worse.

Leaning against the door frame, looking forward expressionlessly, Alex resigned herself to her fate. She made West a deal. No way could she back out. Finally, the boys shuffled up- Spot in the lead. Alex looked from him to the door and back, as if to say, 'You gonna get that?' Smirking, Spot obliged. When it swung open, he pointed through the door with the tip of his cane.

"Afta You."

She grandly swept her way through the door, and the boys followed after her, steadily filling up the bottom floor living room. Instantly, a party broke out. Drinks poured, laughter streamed from every direction, and music flowed from harmonicas and mouths. Some bawdy Irish tune filled the room, and Alex barely smiled. She knew it and began humming along. Making herself comfortable in a nearly broken down chair, she didn't notice the King of Brooklyn follow her across the crowded room. Sitting down next to her, he surveyed his boys.

"They'll use any excuse to start a party," he said in her ear, smiling.

The girl in the chair jumped a bit, but kept her face calm. She refused to show weakness to Spot Conlon. Wordlessly, she turned her face away from his hand continued to lightly hum the tune the boys were singing and watch the revelry. After a few seconds of her ignoring him, Spot sighed. Taking one last look at the girl, he stood and whipped his cane from his belt loop. Her face snapped to look at him. He saw the girl swallow hard and fear flash in her eyes as she pressed herself as far as she could against the back of the chair. Showing that he meant no harm, he switched the cane to the hand farthest away from her. Spoot stepped onto a nearby tabled and pounded the cane against the wood, trying to catch everyone's attention. Instantly, Brooklyn's entire population of newsies stood in silent attention of their leader.

"Good evening, men," Spot called, smirking.

The room erupted in cheers.

"We did it, my boys! Brooklyn is on top of the world tonight."

Again, the newsies burst into happy cheers.

"So, apart from superiority and lots of money coming from the boroughs, Queens has present us with an extra special gift."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Bubba- Spot's right hand man- roll his eyes and begin to pour more drinks. With a flourish, Spot offered his hand down to the girl who still wore her boy's clothes. Hesitant, she stood on the table next to him.

"This, men, is Queenie."

Alex grimaced at the nickname as he took the cap from her head. The entire room instantly rushed to take their caps off in the presence of a lady.

"I'm sure you guys heard about the girl who runs the Queens house," Spot offered.

The entire room gasped in comprehension.

"So, in the aftermath of Queens' abysmal loss to yours truly-"

Several boys asked around to figure out what abysmal meant.

"Queens has agreed to loan her to us for a while."

All the newsies whooped and cat called, erupting in conversation again. But Spot wasn't done. Pounding his cane against the table once more, they immediately quieted.

"She is a lady. And youse guys betta treat her like you'd treat you own moddas and sisters. And if youse don't-"

The boys watched their leader noticeably grip his cane a little tighter.

"You'll come and talk with me."

There were grumblings of ascent from his newsies. Obviously, this didn't appease their leader. He pointed the cane to the crowd of boys and asked with cold eyes,

"Understand?"

"Yes, Spot."

"Good. Now-" he said, smirking as he pushed his cane through the belt loop at his hip.

"I am thinking a celebration is in order!"

In a split second, the party began again. Spot leapt down from the table and offered Alex a hand. This time, she ignored it and stepped down on her own. Grabbing her cap from his hands and her bag from the floor where she left it, Alex made her way back to her chair in the corner. Spot sighed, and began to move toward the crowd toward the receptionists' desk where drinks were being poured into dirty glasses. Every two steps, some newsie or another stopped him and talked for a few moments before he managed to break off the conversation. Every chat revolved around the girl who was to stay with them. Rumors the boys had heard, observations about her, questions for Spot about her. Mostly, Spot listened with vague interest, but occasionally the comments intrigued him and sparked more conversation.

By the time he finally made it across the crowded room, an hour had passed. Motioning to Bubba for two drinks, Spot leisurely observed the room.

"Looks like Queenie's making a break for it," Bubba muttered, pointing to the staircase where the girl was stumbling up toward the bunk room.

Downing his drink in one gulp and not bothering with the other, Spot followed her. Catching up around the second landing, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked, smirking.

She simply looked up to the slightly ajar door which revealed rows and rows of bunks.

"Oh, no. It simply wouldn't do to have the Queen stay with dose common, ruthless Brooklyn newsboys," he mocked. She scowled at him. Offering his arm, he said,

"You'll be staying with me."

Alex backed away from him, shaking her head. He sighed.

"It's either my room or sharing a bunk with a newsboy. Your choice."

The boy extended his arm once more, which she ignored. Motioning that he should show the way, she prepared herself for a long evening. Strutting, Spot took the lead and guided her up two more flights of stairs to his private room. It was simple, she noticed, for all he had were necessities. She gathered he spent little time there.

"Youse can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

The girl shook her head at him and dropped her back on the floor.

"Do you talk?" Spot asked.

She smirked and nodded as she plopped herself on the floor in the corner of the room.

"Will youse talk to me?" he asked.

Playfulness danced in her eyes as she shrugged. The silence in the room nearly deafened Spot, so he offered,

"Well, tomorrow we gotta go carry da banner, so, just do whatever you normally do in Queens. The boys were telling me 'bout some of the things you do for them. Cooking and cleaning, you just gotta keep up all your hard woik here."

Alex nodded silently. Something sparked inside Spot, and he used her silence to provoke her.

"Actually-" he smirked, "West and I was talkin' about ya, and he mentioned that he got some special treatment from you."

His voice dripped with implications, which he left hanging in the air as he walked over to his bed and sat.

"Maybe youse can show me just what he was talking about."

Fury flashed in Alex's eyes.

"West would never-"

Spot's smirk widened.

"Her majesty can speak, then."

He stood and bowed grandly before walking out of the room.

"G'night, Queenie."

Slamming the door behind him, Spot heard her scream in frustration. He smirked, whipped out his cane, and strut down the stairs to the party.

**There it is! Chapter Two! Please read and review! Just so you all know, I'm reading a story called Everything Has It's Price, by Skittsgirl. It's phenomenal and I'm the only one whose been reviewing! Please go over and show her and her story some love!! **

**~D.**


	3. Good Morning

Alex outright refused to sleep that night. Fear coursed through her, and she would not fall asleep in a house full of Brooklyn newsies. She refused to be asleep when Spot came back. She knew better. West had taught her better. But Spot didn't return that evening at all, even after the party quieted. And by the time the sun began to creep up over the Brooklyn sky, Alex could barely keep her eyes open. Temptation to leap into Spot's inviting bed and sleep for days beckoned her. However, knowing her day was just beginning, she rose from her place in the corner begrudgingly. Quickly, she abandoned her boys' clothes for her sole other outfit. She opened her carpet bag and scowled. In the bottom, her oldest and rattiest dress sat. Alex always had a good hand with a needle and thread, so she had many patchwork dresses and other outfits in Queens. But she hadn't counted on West losing, so she packed scantly. Resolving to make a few new things with whatever material she could find, Alex picked up her old outfit and began preparing. Once she had dressed, she took an old, abandoned newspaper cord from the floor and tied her hair back. Sneaking a peak out the window at her new home with it's lazy streets and dirty shops, she sighed.

"Good morning, Brooklyn."

She shook her head once and dashed down the stairs. Smirking, she gingerly stepped around the passed out bodies that lay haphazardly along the floor. Some party. Peeking around random doors to see where the kitchen was, she finally made her way to the common room. Nearly laughing out loud, she saw Spot dead asleep on the reception desk. He was sitting straight up with his cane across his lap, like a king on a throne. Walking past him and scooping herself under the bar, she made her way to a door behind it. Opening it, she found a small kitchen. Alex breathed a sigh of relief until she realized how little food there was in the cabinets.

"Boys," she muttered, shaking her head as she scrounged the materials together to make bread.

There was just enough light streaming into the small kitchen to see by, and she mixed together the ingredients for the newsies' breakfast. Continuing to cook, she looked around the kitchen. It, like the rest of the Lodging House, was covered in a thick layer of clutter. And any space that wasn't covered in junk was covered with at least an inch of dust or grime. Alex considered brewing the small amount of coffee left in the tin in the cupboard above the stove, but one look at the dirty mugs and she threw that idea out the window. The girl groaned as she threw the bread into the small oven, realizing just how much cleaning she had ahead of her. West wasn't paying her enough for this.

Soon, as the sun climbed it's way into the crystal blue Brooklyn sky, the smell of breakfast wafted through the Lodging House. Throwing the piping hot bread onto a couple of plates and cutting it up into slices, Alex heard the newsboys (rather loudly, she might add) begin their morning. She set aside a special, smaller loaf for Spot, rolling it up in an old newspaper, and left the kitchen to present the boys with breakfast. They all milled around, somewhat confused at the idea of having breakfast prepared for them in their own Lodging House.

"Good a'morning to ya, Queenie!" a small and eager boy said, hopping up on the receptionists' desk dangerously close to Spot, who still was out cold despite the noise and clamor.

Nodding to him in acknowledgement, she set the bread down, and motioned that the newsies should eat up. Quickly mumbling apologies and taking off their hats, they scuffled forward. Sincerely thanking her, the boys flashed their nicest smiles and looked extra polished this morning despite their late partying the night before. When one little boy rushed down the stairs and approached her with his cap on, two boys descended on him. Smacking the cap straight off his head, one much older boy shouted incredulously,

"What d'ya think ya doin'?!"

Several boys supported him with things like 'Yeah' and 'Who d'ya tink youse are?' and 'You tell 'im, Ghost!' Blushing crimson, the little boy bent over to pick up his hat. Grabbing him by the shoulder, the older boy named Ghost dragged him to stand directly in front of Alex.

"Now tell da lady youse sorry."

The younger boy squirmed under Ghost's grip and every one's scrutiny. After a few seconds of silence, Ghost roughly shook the boy.

"Say it."

Scuffling his feet nervously, the little boy finally looked up to her with honest eyes and quietly muttered,

"I'se sorry, Queenie. I meant no disrespect."

Smiling and laughing gently, Alex picked up a plate with a single piece of bread and extended it to the young newsie. He returned the smile, snatched up the bread, and thanked her. Everyone tip-toed around Conlon, grabbed a slice of bread for breakfast, thanked their newest addition to the family with a sparkle in their eyes, and ran out to Carry the Banner.

When all they boys left and only she and a sleeping Spot were left, she grabbed up the empty plates and swept into the kitchen. Looking behind her at the king of Brooklyn did nothing but set her blood afire again. Scrubbing at the plates with some cold water and a tiny pad of soap, she began to poorly imitate the kid.

"Give her here….This is Queenie…. I hate West, let's just beat him up with a cane…. Oh, so her majesty can speak…. Stupid, ridiculous-"

"You wouldn't dare talk about the King of Brooklyn like that, now, would ya, Queenie?"

Alex froze momentarily at the sound of his voice. Unsure of what to do, she a let a beat of silence pass between them. Finally, she turned on her heel, picked up a small loaf of bread she made up special for him, and slapped into his hand. Waving her fingers in a dismissal and farewell gesture, she turned to begin her morning chores. Pulling out a bucket and pumping the iron handle of the sink to fill it with water, she ignored Spot's presence all together. After a few moments, Spot realized he was not going to get anything more out of her for the moment. Nearly growling under his breath in frustration, he spun out of the room and toward the new day.

Several hours later, Alex's back severely ached, her eyelids drooped from her lack of sleep the night before, and her hands were wrinkled from the water she used to scrub the floors. The Queens house hadn't needed a good scrubbing like that since she first moved in, and her body wasn't used to all the work. She had the floors and windows of the Bunk Room done, as well as the stairs. Smiling to herself, she plopped down on one of the over-used and abused couches in the Common Room for a brief respite. But no sooner had she sat then a loud knock came from the door.

Mentally cursing whoever the blasted person was, she rose from her seat and moved to open the large door. The sight that greeted her seemed to fix all her problems.

"WEST!"

Leaping into his arms, she smiled and threw all her energy into the embrace.

* * *

**I'm so sorry it's kind of short. I have the funeral today for a very close friend and I just wanted to post before things got Crazy. We love you, Chris. Support 15. **

**Anywho, please read and review!!! What's West doing there? Why is Spot such a jerk? Why did Queenie make him special bread? Why don't you let me know your predictions?! Can't wait to hear them!! And don't forget to check out Skittsgirl's story: Everything Comes with a Price. Make sure you review it as well!!!!! **


	4. West

"_WEST!" _

_Leaping into his arms, she smiled and threw all her energy into the embrace. _

In spite of all the bruises and bandages from his fight with Spot, she would recognize his face anywhere. He brown eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun, and his strands of his hair, black as pitch, hung down over them loosely. A smile stretched across his face, and dimples showed in his cheeks. The top of his fore head was wrapped in a gleaming white bandage, just underneath his hat. The rest of his marks went uncovered. She squeezed him with all her might, and he feebly squeezed in reply. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he already was, but she was too excited at seeing him to control herself. After a moment, she found the strength to barely break away from his arms.

"What are you doing here? I thought part of the bet was that-"

West laughed gently at the girl in front of him. She had a way of letting her mouth run away with her.

"Yeah, dey said no one from Queens could see ya. But ta think I'd let some stupid bet keep me from seein' youse? I'm hurt."

He touched his hear in mock pain and stumbled back a few inches. Alex allowed herself a brief smile before letting it turn into a scowl.

"You really need to leave. Now. What if one of the Brooklyn kids sees you? You'd be a welcher for life, not to mention how badly they'd soak you."

West smiled to himself. It wasn't often that Alex used the language of the newsies. She always spoke properly, and to hear her use the word 'soak' made his chest swell with pride.

"I know all dat. But, I couldn't leave my best girl all alone in Brooklyn wit' Spot Conlon and only two sets of clothes."

He extended his bandaged left arm, holding in his hands a large burlap drawstring sack. West blushed.

"I'm sorry for goin' through your things. I got one of da seamstresses from down da street to pack ya- um- well, ya-"

He reached back, took his cap off and rubbed the back of his neck. Alex giggled at his discomfort and put two and two together.

"Unmentionables?"

West cleared his throat, glad she saved him from having to say it.

"Well, yeah."

Taking the bag from him, Alex smiled.

"Thanks plenty, West. This means a lot."

He shook his head.

"Only natural for a gentleman like meself," he said, grandly bowing.

Alex smiled at him.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, moving aside from the doorway to make a path.

The boy standing across from her shook his head, sadness coloring his flawless brown eyes.

"Ah…. Nah. I can't. I should be goin' soon. Bear told me not to leave da Lodging House for a few days. Stay off my feets 'til dese wounds heal. He said he'd be checking in on me every couple'a hours."

Alex sighed, and the sparkle flew from her eyes.

"Oh."

West saw the sudden change in her. Trying to cheer her up, he offered,

"So… Was it crazy here last night?"

The girl rolled her eyes and West laughed. He knew she hated parties.

"Oh, yes. Brooklyn boys stayed up until the early morning."

"The boys back home were worryin' 'bout ya, ya know. I think Bear might've soaked me if I hadn't been passed out already. Makes 'em antsy to know you're not safe and under dere protection. They don't like ya bein' here. "

Sadly, Alex smiled.

"Well, just between you and me, I don't like being here either."

A moment passed in absolute silence. A thousand unspoken messages floated between them. Finally, West took her empty hand in his and looked in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Alex."

The girl smiled at him, genuinely.

"You know I'm not angry with you," she said, flicking his cap in a playful manner.

"But I'm angry with myself," he insisted, pulling his cap back to it's original position on his head in a frustrated manner.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Alex knew it wasn't a battle she could win.

"So- How's Conlon?" West asked, nervously.

"Well, he's-"

West shifted to lean on the door frame, and Alex caught sight of the very same boy leisurely making his way toward the lodging house.

"Well, he's coming this way."

Urgency colored her tone as she and Spot locked eyes across a crowded square. He began to speed forward, seeing an Queens newsie at his doorstep.

"You have to go. Now," Alex muttered.

Lightly, she reached on tip toe to kiss him on his cheek and told him goodbye.

"Uh-" He said, nervously glancing over his shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Be safe," he muttered,

After taking another glance to the King of Brooklyn, West took off down the street, towards Queens.

Alex met eyes with a now fuming Spot. Calmly, she closed the door and set herself back to her chores. Scrubbing the floors with a dirtied dish rag, she tried to control the shaking fear that consumed her body.

"Maybe Spot didn't see him…" she silently prayed, trying to comfort herself.

But her hope was shattered as the door slammed violently and Spot Conlon stomped through the Lodging House.

"Queenie!"

**I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all for the amazing support you've given me and this story! I can't explain to you how much it means to me to know that y'all are enjoying this story! And for everyone who expressed their condolences over the loss of Chris, thank you so much. The funeral was fine, everything was beautiful, and it went as well as it could have with 300 members of the NFL in attendance. :) ****Thank you so much for everything! Did you like the chapter? What do you think of West? What do you think of Alex? What will happen next!? Maybe you let me know your predictions! Favorite lines? Let me know!! Please keep reading and reviewing! It means the world to me!! **

**~D.**


	5. Fighting Words

Spot left the Lodging House that morning frustrated. He whipped out his cane and began walking toward the distribution center, his mind turning over the events of the last day. The girl infuriated him with her aloof looks and her silence. It burned him to know that she was all his boys could talk about. He hated it. Contemplatively, he took a large bite of the bread Queenie made for him, only to immediately spit it out into the Brooklyn gutters. He held it away from his face to inspect it. A shocked, strangle laugh escaped from his lips.

"Sawdust," he muttered to himself.

"She loaded the bread with sawdust."

Falling into rank beside him, Ghost and Bubba walked with Spot.

"You goin' crazy, Spot? Talkin' to yaself?" Ghost asked, laughing.

The King of Brooklyn gave the boy next to him a warning look from the corner of his eye, and smirked.

"I hear youse both talkin' to yaself every night in ya sleep. What's that say about youse guys?"

He threw the bread away onto the sidewalk, not bothering to find a waste basket.

"Ah, dat's where ya got it wrong, Spot. I'm talkin' to the girls I sneak into my bed every night when ya not lookin," Bubba offered.

"Shut up, Bubba. No girl in her right mind would ever go anywhere wit youse and you knows it," Ghost said, laughing.

The three boys made their way to the office, and all Brooklyn newsies stepped aside for their leader and his lieutenants. Tromping to the front of the line, Spot ordered his usual hundred papes and searched for a selling spot with Ghost. Finally settling on a corner near a busy church and restaurant, they stayed close together and Spot sold out quickly. For him, selling was mindless and uncomplicated- second nature. So, as he waited for Ghost to finish hawking his headline, the boy got to thinking about Queenie.

"Hey, Ghost," Spot called, sitting on the curb and casually lighting up a cigarette.

"Yeah, Spot?" Ghost responded, throwing his last few remaining papes on the ground and sitting beside his leader.

"Whatcha think about Queenie?"

There was a brief pause.

"She's alright, I guess. She took good care a' dem boys up in Queens."

Spot took a long drag from his cigarette.

"Yeah, I heard about dat. She talked to youse yet?"

Ghost shook his head.

"Not a word. I tired dis morning, but she didn't respond. From what I'm hearin,' she ain't talked to nobody yet."

Frustrated even more at her behavior, Spot threw the cigarette into the street and watched it get rolled over by a wagon wheel.

"Damn."

"Yeah. Dat's for sure."

"Ghost, I may have a mission for you."

Ghost perked up.

"Yeah?"

"Think about it: we bring you in all bloodied up today. I putcha on bedrest, she takes care a' ya, ya get close to 'er, and just like dat, she starts talkin," Spot said, smirking to himself.

"Dat's a great idea, Spot," Ghost said, sarcastically as he could, rolling his eyes. His leader gave him a warning look, but let the boy finish, nonetheless.

"Ise not goin' to get meself bloodied up in some fight just so youse can find out more stuff bout some girl," he continued, standing up and grabbing his papes off the ground so he could finish selling for the day.

Spot laughed and rose from the curb as well.

"Ise ain't askin' ya."

And with that, he started soaking Ghost with all his might. Ten minutes later, after many startled and disgusted looks from the upper class and encouraging looks from the lower class, Ghost managed to struggle to his feet. Staring at Spot from the corner of his eyes with all the malice he could muster, he took off down the street. He was limping, bleeding, bruised and cut all over.

"It's times like dese I consider movin' to Manhattan."

His friend and leader laughed, clapping him on the back. Spot knew Ghost was too loyal to ever consider moving to be with Jackie-Boy.

"Now look…." He began, outlining the details of his plan.

"I'm going to go in and wait for a few minutes. Den youse come in like youse just got soaked-"

Ghost interrupted.

"I Did just get soaked, Spot," he reminded the other boy.

"Well, den, it'll be easy for youse, won't it? Now, walk in like youse just got soaked, and I'll demand she keep an eye on youse. Plan?"

The other boy sighed, knowing he had no choice.

"Plan."

"Good," Spot said as the Lodging House came in sight.

"Whose dat?" Ghost asked in a slur. His bottom lip was starting to swell.

Spot looked closely across the crowded square to his home. In the door way, he watched Queenie entertain some newsie. As the approached quickly, he recognized West's signature blue shirt. Over the offending boys' shoulder, Queenie and Spot locked eyes. Angrily, Spot threw behind him to Ghost,

"Stay here."

Taking down the street, he cursed himself for not expecting this. Like the coward he was, Spot watched West run away from him. Not having the desire to chase him out of his own territory, Spot walked through the closed door to the Lodging House.

"Queenie!" He shouted, his loud voice nearly shaking the entire house.

He listened for a moment, but got no reply. Moving through the house, he called again.

"Queenie! Now!"

Finally, he found her scrubbing the floors of the Kitchen.

"What da hell, Queenie?"

She continued to scrub, remaining aloof and disconnected. He advanced on her, stomping his boots against the newly cleaned floor as loud as he could.

"Listen to me when I talk to ya. Youse seems to listen to West perfectly fine when he's the one talking to ya!"

Queenie didn't respond; She merely continued to rub her rag in small circles on the floor. Finally, the anger escalated in Spot. He couldn't take it. Bending over, he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her up. Whipping out his cane, as he always did when his temper got the better of him, he stared the girl down.

"Why was he here?"

A long second passed. Finally, Queenie looked up at him with a look that clearly said she knew she was going to win this argument.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him? Now, may I please get back to my chores?"

"Nah. Ise don't buy dat. Ise not done wit youse."

Dragging her out to the lobby, he roughly let her go.

"Why da hell was he here?" he shouted, temper steadily rising like steam from a kettle.

"No reason, Spot. Calm down."

Spot had to fight with himself to keep his cane down and at his side.

"Youse gots exactly three seconds to tell me whatcha little boyfriend was doing heres before I make ya life in dis building hell. You understand me? And I swear I'll go to every leader in dis God forsaken city and tell 'em he welched on dis bet."

Rolling her eyes, Queenie walked into the kitchen. Spot stood there for a second, shocked.

"Don't youse walk away from me!" He shouted, running after her.

By the time he got to the reception desk, she was out, holding something.

"I had no clothes, Conlon."

She threw the tattered sack at him, before getting back to her chores without permission. Queenie walked into the kitchen, grabbed her bucket and her rag before setting out to finish scrubbing down the lobby.

"He shouldn't a' been heres. And you know it! Why didn't ya send him aways? " he shouted.

Again, she ignored him as she began to rigorously scrub the front desk. He threw her bag against the wall with all his might, making a loud noise as it crashed.

"Listen to me when I talk to youse!"

He stood against the desk, and she looked up. They locked eyes for a moment, and the only sound in the room was that of his heavy breathing. Her calm look began to calm him, and his breathing slowed. Silent tension hung in the air as Queenie abandoned her rag on the desk and slowly extended her hand. His eyes were trapped in hers, trying to figure this girl out. He didn't even notice as she extended her forefinger toward his face, and lightly tapped his nose with a small smile before getting back to her work. Anger pulsing through him, he grabbed his cane by the top and began to raise it as the door swung open. Queenie's head swung to look at the newcomer, and saw the second bloodied and bruised boy of the day.

"Queenie, Ise got hurt real bad today."

And with that, Queenie completely abandoned the King and went to attend Ghost.

**So, did you like it?! I'm really nervous about this chapter, but I hope you all like it! Happy Holidays everyone! This is my gift to all of you! For my friends who celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas! Only two more days!!! Please read and review! I can't wait to hear what you guys think! Btw, am I spoiling you guys with all these quick updates? **


	6. Back In Queens

West hurried out of Brooklyn, stopping his sprinting pace only when he again stepped foot into friendly territory. The events of his conversation with Alex rolled through his head over and over. His skin was still warm from where she held it between her small hands. His blood boiled when he thought about the flash of fear that flew through her eyes when she saw Spot. If he ever had the gall to lay a hand on her…. West didn't even want to think about how much pain the leader of Brooklyn would be in. It hurt West so much for her to be there, in Brooklyn of all places. But, if West was honest with himself, it just hurt for her to be away from him. He missed her. Though he would never admit it, West was every bit in love with her.

When he finally arrived at the Queens Lodging House, he quietly swung the door open, praying that the building was empty. No such luck. There, one of the chairs Alex repaired by herself, sat Bear. Closing the day's paper, he looked up at his leader.

"Heya, Bear," West said, bowing his head in shame.

Bear shook his head.

"You went to Brooklyn, didn' ya?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

West didn't respond for a long moment, avoiding the eyes of his best friend. Finally, he met Bear's eyes and blurted out the only thing that came to mind.

"She didn't have any clothes!"

Standing from his chair, Bear groaned at his leader.

"We both know youse weren't dere just to give the girl some clothes."

The lieutenant shook his head at West, accusing him with his eyes. West shook his head and fidgeted nervously.

"Bear, I couldn't leave her dere. I had to make sure theys were treatin' her okay."

West looked to Bear, begging him to understand.

"And ya think theys gonna be any nicer now dat you been dere? Tell me, just how many of 'em saw ya?"

"Just one," West nearly whispered.

Bear let an incredulous laugh bubble from his lips.

"Jiminy! Youse let Conlon- of all people, Conlon- see you!"

The other boy tried to defend himself.

"I never said-"

"You might not've said it, but it was written all over your face."

Silence, again, filled the room. West couldn't think of a response.

"Couldn' even control yaself for a coupla weeks. Youse pathetic. I wouldn' be surprised if the boys team up wit' Harlem and da Bronx-"

"Youse outta line, Bear. I'm da leader."

Bear laughed in his face.

"Da leader? If youse really wanna call yaself a leader, den act like one once in a while!"

" I couldn' leave 'er dere wit no clothes. I couldn' do it, Bear. You wouldda done da same thing if-"

West was suddenly cut off.

"If I what? If I loved 'er?"

Suddenly, as their voices rose, boys came pouring from the upstairs rooms. West gulped heavily at Bear's last statement. The other boy advanced on him, and the mood of the room shifted. All the boys were staring down their leader and his lieutenant.

"Here's da latest headline for ya, West. We all love dat girl. She's like da modda and da sister we never got. But we know when to leave things alone. We have a little thing called restraint. We'd rather be without our girl for a few weeks than see her beaten by a coupla rough kids from Brooklyn."

Looks of contempt and anger shot through the eyes of West's newsies as they slowly pieced together what was happening.

"I had to make sure she was okays in dere. Alright? Ise was worried. Are youse all happy?"

A voice from the back of the crowd piped up.

"Was she okay?"

West reached up, slid the cap off his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

"She's okay, I think. Ise…. Ise just don't like seein' her in dere."

"Well, it's your fault she's dere in da first place," Bear muttered under his breath.

West snapped his gaze angrily to his lieutenant, and charged him. Grabbing Bear's neck in his hand and pushing him roughly into the wall, he said,

"Don't you dare say dat."

"Well it's true. If you hadn't-"

"He took out a cane on me, Bear. What da hell was Ise supposed to do?"

Desperation and strain fell onto West's face and Bear began to fight against his captor's grip.

"Tell me! What was I supposed ta do?!" West asked again, angry tears welling up in his eyes.

He blinked them back, not willing to show his true feelings to his boys.

"Fight for her! Ya gave up. Why didn't ya fight for her?!"

Suddenly losing his energy, West let go of Bear, roughly pushing him against the wall. He turned to make a grand exit upstairs to his room, but was met with the harsh gazes of his newsies. All looked ready to attack him at any minute. With the exception of Rabbit. Bear's kid brother and a little boy that Alex was always fond of, was near tears. The little boy wasn't even old enough to be a newsie yet, so he always tagged along with Alex, asking her to read him stories, giving her messages, and even helping around the lodging house. Rabbit eventually came to think of her as his mother. The little boy ran up to West and tugged on his blue shirt. Kneeling down so the boy could whisper in his ear, West sighed.

"Is Alex ever going to come back?" The little boy muttered in his leader's ear.

Smiling ruefully, West nodded.

"Yeah. She'll be back."

Rabbit looked up at him as West stood.

"You promise?" he asked, his eyes wide.

West nodded.

"I promise."

And the newsies knew that he meant it. No matter what he had to do, West would get her back.

**There's been so much drama these last few chapters!! I promise I'll give y'all a reprieve next chapter!! PLEASE make sure you're going to read/review Skittsgirl's story: Everything Comes with a Price. If you like my story even a little bit, you'll love her! How did you guys like this chapter? HAPPY CHRISTMAS! I got a copy of the Newsies soundtrack and a copy of the movie, so I'm pretty pleased myself. I'd love to hear your feedback on this chapter!!!! I'm really nervous about this one in particular!! And I'd like to thank fanta778 whose doing some illustrations of West and Alex for me. :D **


	7. Healing

As the sun set over the god-forsaken borough, Alex helped Ghost through the Lobby to the kitchen. His shirt was bloodied up from the wounds on his arms and face, and his body was covered in bruises and scratches. Asking him to sit up on the counter, Alex began her assessment. She washed her hands, cleaning them of the dirt and grime she had been working so hard to clean all day.

"Hold still," she said, gently rubbing her hand over the fresh cuts on his face, measuring how deep beneath the skin they ran.

"These aren't bad at all. They probably won't even need a bandage."

Wetting a rag and lathering it up with soap, she handed it to him.

"Hold it on top of your cuts. It'll stop the bleeding and help with the headache."

Ghost nodded and did as she said, lightly dabbing the flesh wounds and applying pressure to the deep ones. Alex continued her inspection, finding nothing too serious on the skin. Several cuts along his arms and face, along with a severe black eye marred his skin, but nothing threatened his life.

"Would you mind taking off your shirt?"

She said it completely clinically. Alex often helped her boys back in Queens with their medical issues, and a shirtless newsie was nothing new to her.

"Oh, you wanna play it that way?" He said, smirking.

As she had seen a Manhattan newsie, Racetrack, do several times, Alex casually slapped Ghost across the cheek. The boy's mouth dropped near to the floor and his eyes snapped wide open.

"You wanna get better or not?"

Alex smirked and closed his agape mouth with her forefinger.

"Careful or you might get stuck that way."

Ghost laughed, surprised to find that she was secretly funny.

"Hands over your head," she said, sighing.

Confused, Ghost did what she asked. She smirked.

"Skin the rabbit!" Alex said playfully, using the same phrase she once used with Rabbit when she lived in Queens.

The boy chuckled and decided to spare the girl. He slipped the shirt off himself, winching as he did so.

"Hold still," Alex repeated.

Gently, she began to prod at his chest.

"Your chest bone is intact. That's good."

Then, running her hands a bit lower, she used the pads of her fingers to prod at his ribs.

"God D-"

Biting his lip to keep himself from cursing in a girl's presence, Ghost felt as though he was going to die from the pain that shot through his body. Alex ground her teeth together. There was nothing in the world she hated more than causing people pain. She moved her hand to the other side, but he snapped his hands to grab her wrist.

"No more."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Too bad. It has to be done," she said, more for herself than for him.

Repositioning himself so he could sit on his hands, Ghost prepared mentally for the pain. A sharp jab, like needles or broken glass, shot through him.

"Sorry, Ghost. Looks like you've got a few cracked ribs."

He was surprised to look up and see true remorse in her eyes.

"It's not your fault, Queenie," Ghost said, though in truth it really was entirely her fault.

"Just give me one second and we'll get you all bandaged up."

The girl dashed out of the kitchen to retrieve her bag. Spot sat there in the Lobby, presiding over his boys as they unwound after a long day of selling. Leaping up when he saw Queenie, he walked over to her.

"How is he?" Spot asked in a rush.

What she took for emphatic concern was really thinly veiled excitement. He hoped upon hope that Ghost had as many injuries as possible, so he would have a lot of time to unravel Queenie. The girl ignored him and went straight for her bag. His newsies pretended they didn't seen the brush off, opting to hide their laughter behind their hands or their playing cards.

"Evening, boys," Queenie said. Smiling and looking everywhere but at their leader, she tipped her head as she waltzed back into the kitchen.

Spot looked at Bubba, shocked as Bubba laughed unabatedly.

"Unbelievable," Spot breathed, going back to his card game.

Laughing to herself, Alex went back into the kitchen.

"What's got you so happy?"

Alex shook her head, and pulled one of the petticoats out of the carpet bag. Grabbing at a knife, she held it to the fabric.

"Wait!" Ghost said, frantic.

The girl snapped her head up in alarm.

"Don't rip those!"

She started to laugh.

"The so-called bandages you have in this place are much too dirty for me to use," she explained.

Taking the knife to the fabric and whistling quietly to herself, she began to cut strips and wrap them around Ghost's frame, tucking them in when she was finished. Soon, he moved to put his shirt back on.

"I can't let you put that back on," she said, firmly.

Alex shook her head at him and snatched the shirt from his grasp.

"I only have one other," he said, trying to grab it back.

Again, the girl laughed and held the shirt just out of his reach.

"I'll make you another. Just go upstairs and get your clean one."

Limping lightly on his right ankle, Ghost made his way up the stairs and Alex went to speak with Spot. As she approached him, she turned to her and smirked.

"So, finally going to talk to me, eh?"

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to Bubba.

"He's got some cracked ribs, a sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises that might take a while to heal, in case any one's interested."

Spot perked up at this.

"Well, he probably can't sell papes, til he's healed, den."

Sighing, Alex knew she simply couldn't get around talking to him.

"You're going to put him on house arrest?"

The leader of the Brooklyn newsies seemed to consider this for a moment.

"I dunno….I'm just gonna leave 'im in your capable hands, okay?"

Gulping, she remembered the promise she made to West when they left for the boxing match.

_Treat 'em just like you'd treat us, Alex…._

Alex bit back her pride.

"I'll keep him here for you," she promised.

His mouth pulling into the signature smirk of his, he mocked her.

"That's a good girl."

Taking in a large breath to calm herself, Alex turned on her heel and walked away.

**Yes, it's a filler. Sorry. Fun stuff to come, I promise!! Here's the skinny, guys. I need some newsies. Badly. Consider this the casting call. After you review, if you're interested, please send me a message and I'll send you the info. :D Please help me out! Please read and review! It means the world to me!! **


	8. Moonlight and the Morning

**Hey everyone! I just wanted to let you guys know that if you are led to, please go nominate my story for the New York Newsies Awards! I put the website on my profile, and it'd be the most amazing gift ever!!**

That night, Queenie was asleep before Spot came in the room. She fought with her eyelids for a while, but eventually lost the battle. It killed her to let her guard down like that in a house full of Brooklyn newsies, but some things simply can't be avoided. Curled up in the corner, she slept dreamlessly. Spot entered the room hours later, after a long talk with Ghost. They had made plans for the upcoming days, carefully laying out how to get Ghost as close as he could to Queenie.

Spot looked to the girl curled up in the corner, then to his bed with a groan. His back ached from sleeping straight up the night before, but his mother taught him better than letting a girl sleep on the floor two nights in a row. _It's her own damn fault,_ the voice of reason muttered in his head. _The bed was open and she refused to take it. _But he just heard his conscience prattling in the back of his head about how he should treat girls.

"Damn," he muttered, letting his conscience- which, as a matter of a fact sounded a lot like his mother- get the better of him.

Exhaling heavily, he placed his cane against the wall and his hat on top of it before lightly tip-toeing over to Queenie.

"Youse a stubborn girl, you know dat?" He asked, looking down at her.

Bending down, he scooped her up and stepped across the room, carefully avoiding creaky floorboards. Spot wondered if she was unbelievable light or if he was just remarkably strong. Deciding on the latter, he laid her out on his bed, tucking her into the blankets. He could tell how tired she was because she barely even stirred through the whole interaction. Spot looked down at the girl laying in his bed, taking the image of her face in. He decided that she wasn't all that bad looking when she wasn't scowling at him. Reaching out a calloused and ink-stained hand, he brushed her porcelain cheek lightly. The moonlight poured in from the window, striking itself against her face and he realized something.

"Huh. No color." he breathed.

He looked at her face again for a long, lovely moment, surveying the moon's beams that lit her face up with it's glow. Shrugging, he looked up at the moon. There was no color in moonlight.

"What a jip."

And with a shrug, he walked out of his room and toward the bunks where he would sleep for the evening.

The next morning, Alex woke up in Spot's bed with the sunlight burning her eyes through the window. Disoriented, she jumped up and looked around. She peered up at the sun, and saw it hanging high over Brooklyn.

"Oh, dear."

She grabbed the newspaper cord from the floor and threw her hair up in it. Sprinting down the stairs as fast as she could, she mentally went through what she could make for breakfast with the limited supplies in the pantry. Alex entered the Lobby, moving toward the kitchen.

"Theyse been gone near three hours already. Don't worry, though. They thought you deserved a morning to sleep in after how good you were to dem yesterday morning," a voice said behind her.

Alex stopped dead in her tracks and spun around.

"G'mornin', Queenie," Ghost said, smiling.

He laid down his copy of the morning edition and stood up.

"Good morning, Ghost," Alex said, smiling back.

Ghost walked over and offered his arm.

"How's 'bout a walk on dis fine Brooklyn morning?" he asked, turning on the charm.

The girl shook her head.

"I don't think so. Spot told me-"

Scoffing at her, he rolled his eyes.

"Spot-Schmot. Ise don't care what he told ya. We'se goin' for a walk. I'm hungry, besides."

Nervously, she looked around.

"There's still a lot to be done around here, though and-"

Ghost charmingly flashed his best smile and his brightest look her way.

"All things dat can be done at a later time."

A pause hung in the air and Ghost sighed.

"But Spot explicitly told me-" she stuttered.

"Spot isn't going to mind," Ghost implored, not bothering to mention that it was Spot's idea in the first place.

"I just don't think we should-"

"Do wese even have food in dis entire building?" he wondered aloud.

Alex shook her head meekly.

"Perfect!" he shouted, making Alex nearly jump out of her skin.

"While we're out, I'll even take you to the market and we'll get some food. Now can we go?" he asked, frustrated.

She stood where she was, still undecided.

"Fine. I'll just go by myself."

Moving toward the door as if to leave her, he began to whistle carelessly.

"Wait!" she shrieked, terrified of what would happen if Spot found out she let him leave without her.

He spun around, looking at her with superior eyes.

"Yes?"

She collected herself and slipped on her calm mask.

"I'm coming with you. A walk sounds nice."

Smiling, he turned and offered his arm. She looped hers through his and they left the Lodging House to take a walk through Brooklyn. The second they stepped on to the street, sounds filled the air and Alex was swept away. Looking around her, she saw sellers peddling their goods, performers singing and dancing, children running, and ladies gossiping.

"Jiminy…" She muttered, eyes widening as she looked around her.

Ghost laughed.

"Youse don't get out much, do ya, Queenie?"

Alex shook her head.

"I've never been out in Brooklyn during the daytime before," she explained as she looked intently at a pair of young boys dancing on the street corner.

Steering her away from the kids and toward a man selling small loaves of hot bread from a cart, he laughed. She really didn't get out much if a few dancing street rats drew her in. Ghost shuddered to think how she would act during the Saint Patrick's Day Parade. As they approached the vendor for their breakfast, she reached to take her money out.

"I got dis," he said, pushing her arm away and paying for their food.

Grandly offering her the bread, she smiled and thanked him, promising to pay him back. The boy waved her off, and took a large bite of breakfast.

"Let's go to da square and eat dis. My ankle's killin' me," Ghost said.

Linking their arms together again, they found a bench in the square and sat. A gentle October breeze ran through the trees, sending a slight chill up and down Alex's spine. She opted not to complain because she had known worse, and she bit into her bread. After a few moments of silent eating, Ghost put his breakfast down.

"So," he said, still chewing his last bite, "What's da story?"

The girl furrowed her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

Ghost rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Come on, youse know exactly what I'm asking. How'd ya get tangled up with a bas-"

He caught himself before cursing in front of her.

"How'd ya get tangled up with a guy like West?"

Alex put her bread down in her lap and looked at the boy next to her.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Ghost cocked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly.

"West is a good guy," she said.

The boy next to her laughed out loud.

"Right. 'Course he is."

On her feet in an instant, Alex stared at Ghost.

"You know nothing about him!" Alex said, her voice rising.

Keeping his composure calm and controlled, as Spot asked him to do, Ghost looked at Alex as though an annoyed teacher might look at a pupil pitching a temper tantrum. He shrugged. This was not how the conversation was supposed to go, and Ghost looked for a way to back peddle.

"Well, den, how'd you end up wit' a saint like West?"

The sarcastic emphasis he put on the word saint wasn't lost on Alex, but she ignored it.

"I'll tell you on one condition," she said.

Releasing a joking sigh, he asked,

"What?"

A true, large grin spread across her face.

"You have to tell me how you got such a ridiculous nickname."

Giggling to herself, she waited for him to respond. A moment passed and mock anger flashed in his eyes.

"You can't just knock a man's nickname, Queenie."

Frantically looking around, she asked,

"What man? I don't see a man around here."

Just at that moment, a voice called to them from behind,

"Then youse must not 'ave seen me standing here, Queenie!"

Ghost groaned, knowing the plan would just have to wait for tomorrow.

**Please read and review! And don't forget about the New York Newsie Awards! Thanks so much to: Hopeful-Dreamer36, Grnwkddrppprluv, and for donating characters! I still need newsies if you have some, just contact me about Casting Call!!** **I've edited this chapter like crazy!!! I hope you guys like it! I'm slowly growing to actually like Ghost. You're shocked, I know. I really didn't like him, but now he's growing on me. :D Thanks for everything, guys and goils!**


	9. Brooklyn Boys

**I've noticed I'm getting a lot of reads and very few reviews. Please, please, please, please make sure you review!!!!! **

Alex looked over her shoulder to the source of the voice. The sight that greeted her eyes was somewhat familiar. A tall, blonde hair, blue eyed boy carrying a small barrel under his arm walked toward them with a small smile plastered across his face. Alex ventured that he stood at about West's height. Taking a closer look, he had West's muscular build, too. The boy waved his free arm and called,

"Heya, Queenie!"

His voice was light and soft, in contrast with the loud-mouthed boy sitting next to her. Alex found herself smiling back at this newsie. His eyes blue eyes were bright and curious, and his smile spread across his tanned face as he grew nearer to her. Approaching the bench where she sat, he lightly grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it.

"Jazz Jamison, at ya service, Queenie."

Moving around the bench to face the two, he looked at Ghost and spit in his hand. Extending it, he said,

"How goes it, Ghost? I thought youse were put on House Arrest?"

Ghost stood and spit in his hand, shaking with his fellow newsie.

"Queenie said she would supervise a short walk. You knows I can't be kept cooped up in dat house for too long. How goes it with youse?"

Jazz shrugged.

"Sold out early. Youse missed a good headline. Murder of some big-shot politician in Washington. So, I thought I'd bang on the old barrel for a while and see what I could scrounge up."

He nodded to the barrel under his arm, smiling, and pulled some change out from his pocket.

"Ise cleaned up pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Jazz here's a musician. Loves to beat on that stupid barrel whenever he can. Makes right racket inside da Lodging House."

"Youse just jealous of my talent," The boy said, pocketing his money again.

"Talent? You call bangin' on a barrel talent? Ise think even I could do dat."

Jazz punched him in the arm as hard as he could, resisting soaking him only because they were in the presence of a lady.

"Ya see, Queenie, I'm the best musician this town's ever seen. All da newsies are jealous of me and my gift."

Jazz extended his hand gracefully to the girl. She took it and stood, thanking him kindly. Laying his free arm over his shoulder he said,

"Let me walk ya home and Ise can tell ya all about it. Ya see I-"

Alex heard an unfamiliar voice call from behind her,

"Stop, fiend! Let the lady go!"

The lady in question turned, as did Jazz, to look at whoever spoke. Her eyes met those of three more newsies, all standing frozen with aghast faces. As she had with Jazz, she vaguely recognized them from the Brooklyn Lodging House. Looking at them made her laugh freely. Their expressions were so comical, she just couldn't help herself.

The first, a tall boy with dirty blonde hair stood with his hand over his mouth and eyes wide. The second, a tan, freckled, green eyed mess, stood pointing at Alex and Jazz. The final, a handsome, dark-haired boy merely stood with his jaw at the ground.

"Friends!" The dark haired one began dramatically, "He's preying on innocent young ladies!"

"Again!" The blonde supplied.

"Yes! Preying on innocent young ladies again!"

Alex giggled behind her hand at the boys' antics.

"We must save her!" The green eyed boy said, holding a rolled up paper a loft as though it were a sword.

"Hold this please," Jazz said, throwing his barrel her direction.

She barely caught it before the three boys charged Jazz, playfully hitting him and screaming,

"For da Lady!" or "Back, ya lousy scabbard!"

Laughing until her sides hurt, Alex watched until she could no longer stand it.

"Gentlemen, Gentlemen! Please, violence is not necessary," she said, gently pulling the boys apart.

"I shall forever be in your debt for saving me from this monster," Alex melodramatically said.

All the boys laughed, except for Ghost, who sat on the bench. He scowled, upset that the attention had been taken from him and his plan ruined. It would be difficult to explain it to Spot later.

"Queenie, wese gotta get goin'," he said, interrupting the fun.

"Aw, Ghost! Why ya gotta be a stick in da mud? Wese didn' even get to introduce the lady to her valiant rescuers!"

Without waiting for permission, Jazz took the liberty of doing so.

"Dis-" he said, pointing to the dark haired boy, "Is Feodore Sweeney. We call 'im Dealer."

Dealer took her hand and kissed it lightly.

"Charmed," she said, curtsying in a mocking manner.

"Dis-" Jazz began, moving onto the tan, freckled, green eyed mess, "is Clinton Granger. Also known as Hayseed."

Shyly, Hayseed smiled and waved. Alex smiled back.

"Do wese really gotta do dis, Queenie? Ise mean-"

Alex threw him a sharp look.

"You were the one who insisted on coming out this morning."

Smirking, she turned to the last newsie.

"And Dis is-"

He was cut off by the blonde haired, blue eyed boy. In an light Australian accent that Alex hadn't noticed before, he said,

"Da name is Jake Thomas O'Kinley. Boys call me Thumper."

Bowing grandly at the waist and waving his hat like a duke is a King's court, Thumper smiled. Cocking her head, Alex looked at the boy.

"Why do they call you Thumper?"

This time, all the boys laughed, and Thumper turned bright red.

"Oh, you'll see."

Though confused, Alex shrugged.

"We gotta be goin'. Lunch's callin' my name," Dealer said, rubbing his stomach accordingly.

"Dealer, youse just ate breakfast an hour ago," Thumper said.

Dealer rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Wasn't Queenie's breakfast. Doesn't count," he said, smiling.

The other boys groaned and laughed at him. Dealer leaded down and picked up the hat he'd lost in the fray, a black one with several bird feathers in it. Dusting it off as though it was his prized possession, he threw it back on top of his head.

"Let's go,"

He, along with Jazz, offered their arms to Alex. She looked behind her, checking that it was okay with Ghost. Sighing, he nodded his consent. Looping her arms with the boys, Alex said to Jazz,

"So, you were telling me you're a musician?"

Animatedly, he nodded.

"My dad was a musician. Damn good one at dat. Studied in New Orleans, developing a style called Jazz. My mom was da one who came up with da name 'cause it was all I ever wanted to hear. I play for the boys and the good street people of Brooklyn."

Rolling his eyes, Hayseed said with his bright southern accent,

"And one day he swears he's gonna be playing the great city stages."

Slapping Hayseed's shoulder roughly, Jazz nodded.

"Ise gonna, too! Just youse guys wait and see. I'm gonna be richer than all youse poor slummers put togeda."

Ghost lagged behind the group, kicking up pebbles as he went. Spot wouldn't be pleased to know that he hadn't gotten any information out of Queenie except for her intense devotion to West. And if he lost her attention to these boys, Spot might kill him.

"Come on, Ghost! Ya too slow, ya gimp!"

Resisting the urge to scream profanities toward Jazz, Ghost tried to pick up the pace. His ankle was killing him, and he felt his blood boil at Spot. It was all his damn fault this was happening.

"I have to take Ghost to the market, but I'm sure I'll see you boys again?"

"Of course, ya will," Jazz said, waving the other boys away from her.

Tipping their caps at Alex, the three boys left to go about their daily business.

"Come on. Will you lead me to the market?" she asked, smiling as though nothing had happened.

Sighing, he knew he couldn't say no when she flashed him a smile.

"'Course. Let's go," he said, praying that he could get something out of her before Spot got home.

**Again, please make sure you review!! I really, really, really, love reviews!! Many thanks to all those who let me borrow their characters! I hope you like how they came out! :)**


	10. Roller and Spot

**To the five/six people who regularly review: Thank you so much. You're amazing. To those who have never reviewed/don't do it as much as you'd like, please start now. I'd love you forever. Enjoy this chapter!!! **

Spot looked out over the docks from his crow's nest. The sun hung low over Brooklyn, making everything shine. The water reflected back the diminishing light, making everything a little brighter. He watched as some of his newsies swam in the river, some played cards, some practiced their hand with a slingshot, some played marbles, while some just sat around talking. Sighing in contentment, he thought to himself,

"Dis is how things should be."

So wrapped up in his surroundings, Spot didn't notice a particularly small newsie sneak into the crow's nest behind him.

"Hiya, Spot!" a voice called excitedly.

Spinning on his heel, Spot turned toward the source of the voice. He tilted his head downward to meet the gaze of the little newsie who stood there.

"Hey, Roller."

The little boy smiled up at the older one.

"How goes it?" Spot asked the kid.

Spot turned to back toward the docks to keep an eye on his boys. Following at his heels, Roller said,

"Good. Didn' sell with nobody today."

Roller was obviously very proud of this fact.

"Youse know I don't like you sellin' without someone older," Spot said, critically.

The little boy looked down, ashamed at breaking one of the rules.

"Ise sorry, Spot. I just thought that now since I'm seven-"

Shaking his head, the older boy cut him off.

"Youse still too young. Youse know dat."

He looked down to see the little boy staring up at him with wide, sincere eyes.

"Ise really sorry, Spot. I swear it won't happen again."

"Youse right about dat, to be sure."

Roller bowed his head in shame, expecting to be kicked out. Tears brimmed on his eyes and he started shaking.

"'Cause Youse gonna sell with me from now on."

Looking down at the younger kid, Spot watched as his eyes grew wide.

"Really, Spot? Really?"

Not knowing whether he would regret it later or not, Spot nodded.

"Yeah."

Throwing his arms around Spot in a hug, he said,

"Thanks, Spot."

Tapping the kid on the head, the leader of Brooklyn smiled a true smile.

"No problem, kid."

Roller broke away.

"But now Ise gotta go see Queenie back at the Lodgin' House, so-"

The younger boy nearly leapt into the air.

"Oh! Can Ise come? Please, Spot, please?!"

Spot sighed. He was beginning to regret this decision already.

"Sure, kid. Let's go."

Pumping his fist in the air in triumph, Roller scrambled down from the crow's nest towards the docks. Tossing his cane and hat down before him, Spot followed. Leading the younger boy back to the Lodging House, Spot silently prayed that Ghost had gotten something out of Queenie. Stepping inside the building and allowing Roller to follow him, Spot furrowed his eyebrows as he smelled something strong coming from the kitchen. And to his surprise, it wasn't the smell of fire.

"Oh boy! I'm starved!" said Roller, running into the house.

Stepping deeper into the building, Spot took stock of who all was there. He saw Butcher and Bubba arm wrestle in a corner while Dealer lead a game of poker.

"Hiya, boys!" Roller cheered, smiling at everyone.

Bubba and Butcher ignored him, to wrapped up in their arm wrestling match, but the other boys smiled and waved in his direction.

"What's cookin'?" Spot asked Dealer as he took one of the chairs and sat.

All the boys playing poker took a deep breath in and smiled.

"Queenie's makin' bread and soup. She swears it's gettin' colder and we need some warm stuff to keep us from gettin' sick."

Spot looked around at the room once more, noting one significant person missing.

"Where's Ghost?"

The other boys laughed.

"Queenie made 'im go upstairs to sleep. They went on a walk dis mornin' and she was afraid of 'im getting worse than he already is," Jazz said, throwing his cards in the center of the table, folding the game to Dealer.

Raking in his winnings, Dealer said,

"I think she was more worried 'bout you getting angry if he got worse than she's really worried 'bout him getting worse, if youse know what I mean."

"Hey, Roller, you wanna meet Queenie?" Spot asked, moving toward the kitchen.

Leaping up from his spot on the floor, Roller nodded.

"Yeah!"

"Come on, den," he said.

The two boys entered the kitchen to the sounds of Queenie humming.

"Someone's in a right cheery mood," Spot said, smirking.

Queenie sighed shortly and rolled her eyes as she continued to cut vegetables.

"Ise been wantin' to introduce you to someone, Queenie," Spot said, gently tapping her shoulder with the end of his cane.

She turned from the stove and the newsies' dinner to see a little boy standing in front of her, and Spot directly behind him. Immediately, her heart turned to butter.

"Why, hello there," she said, smiling at the little boy and sinking down to her knees to be at his height.

The little boy hid behind Spot shyly.

"It's okay. I promise I won't bite," Queenie said, peering around Spot's body to see the boy.

He was short, and she saw that his eyes were as a deep, dark blue like the Hudson River. His dark brown hair was almost entirely hidden by a dirty brown cabbie hat, and she saw a small drawstring bag hanging from the belt loop on his pants. _Marbles, no doubt, _she thought to herself, smiling.

"Can I please meet you? I promise I'm not as scary as I look."

Roller peered up at Spot, looking for confirmation that it was okay. Spot gave him a small nod. The younger kid stepped out from behind his leader's legs and looked at the girl in front of him.

"What's your name, kid?" she asked.

He looked down at his feet, scuffling them across the newly polished kitchen floor.

"Ise James Timothy," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear.

She smiled, thinking about how much alike she and this little boy were. She heard him shouting and playing with the guys outside- people he was comfortable with- but the second he was met with someone knew he was shy and afraid. Just like she was.

"Is that what I should call you, James Timothy?" she asked.

Roller shook his head, his eyes resting squarely on the floor.

"What should I call you, then?"

"Well-" he started, looking up at her for the first time, "the other boys call me Roller."

Queenie nodded at him encouragingly.

"Why do they call you that?" she asked.

The little boy fidgeted with the drawstring pouch at his waist.

"I play marbles, and I'm pretty good."

The girl extended her hand to the little boy.

"May I see these shooters?" she asked.

Happy that someone was taking interest in him, Roller enthusiastically nodded his head and sat down on the kitchen floor with her. He handed Queenie the bag and began to talk animatedly about each marble and the particular victories that he had clinched with each one. She responded happily, all her attention glued to him and what he had to say.

Spot looked down at the two. _At last she's found someone to talk to, _he thought as he smirked. The look on Roller's face, though, made a true smile flash across his face. _The boys in Queens picked themselves a pretty fine girl. _He thought back to the night before, when he saw her sleeping peacefully in his bed. For a moment, it seemed to Spot that he and Queenie would be perfect for each other. _It'd be the perfect way to piss West off, that's for sure,_ he thought, the smirk laying itself across his face. He shook the idea of any relationship out of his head as Roller's voice broke him from his trance.

"Well, can I sit by you at dinner?" he asked Queenie.

Queenie nodded her head and smiled.

"Good. And Spot'll sit next to youse," the little boy said, smiling.

He wasn't asking permission.

"Hold on there. We don't even know if Spot wants to sit next to me," Queenie said before Spot had a chance to.

Roller looked up at Spot.

"Well?" he asked.

Spot looked at the girl, then back to the little boy.

"Well-" he began, pretending to ponder the possibility, "we've gotta to protect 'er from dose other boys, don't we, Roller?"

The little boy beamed and picked up his marbles in a flurry.

"I have to finish dinner first," Queenie said, thoroughly annoyed.

Nodding, Spot sent Roller out of the kitchen.

"So…youse good with da kids?" Spot asked, not able to wipe his smirk off his face.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

Turning back to finish their dinner, Queenie suddenly remembered why she disliked Spot Conlon so much.

"You gonna sleep in my bed again to night?" he asked, his voice thick with implications.

She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"Get out of my kitchen!" Queenie shouted, turning on her heel and wielding a large knife in his direction.

Dashing out of the kitchen, Spot ran back into the Lobby.

"Dinner's up soon, boys," he muttered, smiling at the girl's insanity.

**Please review!! And please, please, please don't forget about the New York Newsie Awards! I posted the link to their website on my profile! Please nominate me if you feel I deserve it!!**


	11. Supper Time

**Thanks for all the support!! So many reviews last chapter! Please keep it up! If you haven't been reviewing, PLEASE start doing so now!**

After the sun light stopped shining through the small windows of the kitchen and Alex took the final taste of her soup to ensure it was perfect, she lightly treaded out of the small kitchen. She carried the large pot in her hands; it's weight almost sent her toppling to the floor. Leaving the room behind, she listened to the steadily growing noise level coming from the main room. Nearly dropping the pot, she gasped at the sight that welcomed her to the Lobby. Boys filled every inch of the space, all holding their bowls and spoons.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, trying to regain her composure.

Roller walked up to her and smiled.

"All a' da Brooklyn newsies heard youse was cooking and came over to see if youse was any good."

When she didn't move an inch, the little boy became frustrated. He tugged at the skirt of her dress anxiously.

"Come on!" he implored.

Silently praying that there would be enough food to feed everyone, Alex set the pot down on the reception desk. She sprinted into the kitchen and pulled out all the bread she could find, quickly bringing it out to the boys. Slicing it up and putting it with the soup, Alex groaned under her breath. Back in Queens, people had the common decency of telling her how many newsies were coming for dinner, so she would always have enough for everyone. _But Spot Conlon has no common decency, _she argued with herself, smirking.

Boys began to line up, holding their bowls. The rag-tag group nearly made Alex laugh out loud. Each boy had his own personality, and she marveled at how anyone could call them all the alike. Jazz, toward the back of the line, held his barrel under his arm, tapping out a quick rhythm out of boredom. Some random newsie casually shuffled a deck of cards. Hayseed was lighting up a cigarette for Dealer. Roller showed off his marble bag to some other newsies around his age. But they all kept their hats off in respect of the lady, and they all laughed and joked with each other as they waited somewhat impatiently for the supper Alex had prepared. Their clothes rarely matched and almost all had holes in them. It made her think of her newsies back in Queens.

She thought of Bear, with his big smile and his humongous frame. She remembered how he could sleep for days on end and how he wouldn't wake up even if she yelled in his ears for hours. The girl mused if any of these boys were like Bear, or if they were all hard and rough like Conlon. When Roller came up to get his dinner, she thought of Rabbit, the little boy who tagged along at her heels and never gave her a moment's rest. As the line got shorter, she remembered Rusty, the tiny but fiery boy who taught her to fight. Would any boy here try to help her like he did?

Then Spot came to the front of the line. He was nothing like West. Alex tried not to think too much about him, because her heart broke at the thought of her leader back in Queens. But looking at Spot, she couldn't help but remember the boy who had taken her off the streets and into the Lodging House to take care of the Queens newsies. He was her best friend, the only one she could tell everything to. Spot handed her his bowl frustratedly. So she shook West out of her head, dismissing all memories of him for the time being. Alex smiled a sad smile and Spot moved along without a word.

"Heya, Queenie! Smells good!" Dealer said, offering his bowl to her.

Alex took it from him, smiling and ladled out some soup.

"I hope you like it," she responded, giving the bowl back to him.

He winked at her.

"I'm sure I will,"

Jazz came up behind Dealer.

"Don't mind 'im. He's a bit loony. Thanks for supper, Queenie."

Dealer reached behind him and slapped Jazz's arms, nearly knocked the bowl to the floor.

"See, what'd I tell ya, Queenie? He's crazy."

Alex laughed at the two boys and rolled her eyes.

"Move along," she told them, waving them away with a smile.

Ghost sulked in a corner, watching her interact with them as though they were best friends. Spot looked on as well, wishing he could act so freely with her. The rest of the boys came and went, thanking her as they walked away. After they were all happily slurping their the soup up, she scraped the last drippings from the bottom of the bowl for herself and went to sit by Roller, who had saved her a large armchair next to Spot.

"Queenie! Queenie! Queenie!" He said, bouncing so much that he nearly spilt the last of his supper across the floor she had cleaned only that afternoon.

Alex placed herself in the armchair, gently asking him to calm down.

"Sorry," he said, sitting still in his chair once more.

The girl nodded and smiled at him.

"Dis is da best soup Ise ever had in my life! It's just likes…."

He lifted the bowl to his mouth and gulped the last drops of soup from the bottom of it.

"It's just likes da most delicious thing in da world. And I loves food, Queenie. A lot. Ise know what good foods are. Well, Ise means, we didn't eats too good for a while durin' da strike, 'cause no one had any moneys. But anyway, I once had dis stuff over in 'Hattan, and it was dis fluffy stuff dat we got from Medda's, and-"

Spot threw a fed up, annoyed glance at the little boy, effectively shutting up the younger boy's rambling.

"Could use a little salt," Spot commented, taking a large spoonful into his mouth.

Alex knew by now he just said those things to get to her.

"There is some in the kitchen. You are more than welcome to it," she said, nonchalantly.

"On second thought, it doesn't need any salt."

_Lazy boy, _Alex thought to herself. The room was quieted for a moment as everyone ate. Finally getting to begin her dinner, Alex realized just how hungry she was. She almost inhaled her soup, all the while ignoring the whispers and stares that came from every corner of the room. Suddenly, Jazz appeared in front out of nowhere, making himself comfortable on the floor in front of her.

"Heya, Spot," he said, nodding to his leader.

Spot nodded in recognition, continuing to eat his meal. Alex put her supper to the side, not caring when Roller picked it up and scraped what was left into his mouth.

"Bonjour, madamoiselle."

Giggling at how the French word sounded in New York accent, Alex attempted to swallow a mouthful of water.

"Hello, Jazz."

Jazz sat there for a moment, and looked at something over Alex's shoulder before chuckling under his breath and rolling his eyes.

"Somma da boys been wonderin' some things, and I didn' want any a' dem to spoil ya gleaming reputation, so I figured I'd come over heres and ask ya myself."

Nodding cautiously, Alex said,

"Go ahead."

She didn't notice how the entire room shifted around her. The clinking of silverware against bowls and the quiet chatter ceased entirely, and everyone's attention shifted her way. Jazz noticed it and began smiling at how oblivious she was to everything.

"Well, da first one's not so bad, ya see."

The girl nodded for him to continue.

"How long ya gonna be stayin' with us?" he asked.

Alex laughed.

"I'm stayin' here 'til Christmas," she said, smiling sadly.

Jazz counted on his fingers, doing the math quickly.

"And dat's what? Two months?"

Boys around them gasped quietly, either surprised that Queens would give her up for that long, or upset that they would only have her for that short period of time.

"Yes, I believe it was two months that the boys agreed on."

Jazz nodded and leaned forward toward her.

"And dis is da one youse gotta be real honest about, yeah?"

The girl nodded, still completely unconscious to the attention she was getting from the rest of the room.

"What's da deal with you and West? I mean, are youse two togeda, or what?"

Spot's gaze snapped over to the girl, who said nothing for a moment. Finally, she took in a large gulp of air.

"Well, you see, West and I-"

Just at that moment, The door to the Lodging House swung open.

"Spot!" a voice called.

Everyone's gaze snapped to the door. A boy stood there, soaked to the skin from the rain that began to pour outside the Lodging House. He was thin and scrawny with captivating blue-green eyes that matched the color of the ocean. His red-brown hair told Alex he was Irish. She noticed that he held his cap in his hands and he didn't wear suspenders like the rest of the male population of New York did. Alex fought off a smile as he pulled his pants up. _I will have to find him some suspenders, _she thought to herself.

"Heya, Queenie," the boy said cheerily, an endearing blush creeping across his face as he made eye contact with the girl.

Dropping his cheery attitude for a serious one, he leaned down toward Spot and began to rapidly whisper in his ear. The room went quiet, as though they were trying to catch bits of their conversation.

Leaning over to Jazz, she whispered,

"Whose that?"

"Dat's Cutter…. He's one a' Spot's little birdies. I thought he was gonna be in Harlem dis week…" he trailed off.

Alex looked at Cutter and Spot, flashing back to the conversations she had with West and Bear not even a week before.

"_Up in Harlem, dey's getting restless," Bear told West._

_West sighed and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Confusedly, Alex asked,_

"_What do you mean by that?"_

_Both boys looked at her._

"_It __means dey aren't liking dere new management, so's to speak," Bear said._

"_Paris ain't doin' too good a job as dere leader, and some a' da guys is getting antsy for a new one."_

_A long silence fell between the three._

"_What do you think will happen, then?" She asked the two boys._

_Bear and West looked at each other for a long time._

"_Well, If dey'se smart, dey'll talk to da leaders of the other boroughs fors a formal renaming of a leader."_

"_And if they're not smart?" _

"_Dey'll try to take him out demselves."_

The Brooklyn Lodging House was silent. All the boys sat and waited for the word from Spot.

**How was it? _Please, please review!_ And please don't forget to nominate me for the New York Newsies Awards!! I posted the link on my profile. (The link to my twitter account is on there, too.... If you're interested. :)**


	12. Spot's Decision

**Thank you all for the fabulous support! Please keep it up! If you haven't been reviewing, PLEASE start now. **

In the silence, suddenly a small tapping sound could be heard. Everyone ignored it, opting to keep their attention on Spot. But soon, the noise filled the room, almost sounding like someone was pounding on the door.

"I'll get it," Alex said, nervously rising from her seat.

Quiet chuckles rippled across the room.

"Dat's just Thumper," Jazz whispered, pointing to the boy.

Alex looked over to a corner, where Jazz was motioning. Thumper sat in a chair, head in his hands, his foot anxiously tapping the ground.

"It's a nervous habit a' his."

Swallowing a chuckle, Alex nodded. She adopted a serious expression and looked to Spot.

"So…." Cutter began.

"Whatcha say, Spot?"

The leader's ice blue eyes shot up to the other boy.

"What d'ya expect me to do, Cutter?"

Cutter looked around nervously.

"I-Ise not sure. Ise just thought you'd do something-"

Spot laughed a sharp, cold laugh.

"That was ya first mistake. Don't think. Dat's my job. "

The boy nodded.

"As for Harlem, Ise not gonna stick my neck out for dem. Me boys are gonna stay right here where dey belong. If de Harlem boys ain't gonna do dis de right way, we sure as hell ain't gonna help 'em out."

He paused.

"At least not yet," he finished.

"Whatever youse say, Spot," Cutter conceded.

The king of Brooklyn turned his eyes to Alex.

"Whatcha think West'll do?" he asked.

Alex's heart skipped a beat.

"Are you really asking a civil question?" she asked, shocked.

He nodded stonily, and she smiled.

"Wow…. I just…. Let me soak this in for a moment."

Bursts of laughter filled the room. Spot banged his cane on the floor in annoyance, effectively stopping Thumper's incessant tapping, the boys' chuckling, and Alex's moment. Once again, he turned his eyes- cold and emotionless as blue steel- toward her.

"Go on."

She gulped hard.

"Oh, Well-" she began.

Spot sighed.

"We ain't got all night. I'd like to get some rest before me teeth fall out."

The girl sighed and looked at her hands.

"He talked about this a little before I left," Alex said.

If she didn't have the entire room's attention before, she certainly had it then.

"And?" Spot asked.

She gulped, looking away from him.

"But, I don't know what he'll do," she said in her quietest voice.

Gritting his teeth, Spot stood. He stomped across the room, the only noise the sound of his boots clamping down on the hardwood floors. Suddenly, he threw his cane at the wall.

"Damn."

Another moment of silence filled the room as Spot struggled to compose himself. He couldn't care less if Harlem got a new leader. He hated the last two they'd had. But his blood boiled that Queenie wouldn't answer him honestly. She knew what West's move would be, he decided. But she refused to tell him. And it pissed him off.

Gulping and pulling himself together, Spot said,

"Cutter, get back to Harlem. Ise want updates everyday on what's goin' on. After it all goes down, you'se gonna be reassigned to Queens."

He turned to face the birdie.

"Understood?"

Cutter nodded and bolted out of the front door, stopping only to quickly tip his hat at Queenie.

"Da rest of youse get to bed. Youse all gotta work tomorrow."

They scuffled off, many stopping to mutter a quick thanks to Queenie for dinner. Alex collected the pot and tried to sneak out, but it didn't work.

"Queenie. Stay."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned around.

"Yes sir?" she asked.

He pointed to the arm chair she had formerly occupied.

"Sit," he commanded.

Alex nodded and obliged. She knew the last thing she wanted was to be on Spot's bad side, especially after his display. He remained on his feet, approaching her as he spoke.

"Tomorrow, after youse wake da newsies up, you and Ise are gonna head up to Manhattan."

It wasn't a request, and she knew it.

"Youse are gonna tell Jacky-Boy everythin' you knows about what West is gonna do about dis whole situation in Harlem."

The girl looked up at Spot, his ice blue eyes nearly paralyzing her with their steely gaze.

"I swear I don't know anything. We barely ever talked about that stuff. We really never talked about that stuff," she said, back peddling.

This intrigued Spot.

"Really?" he asked, smirking.

"And, what kinds of things, exactly, did you twos talk about?"

Leaping up from her chair, Alex turned on the boy.

"Can you ever be decent for more than five seconds?"

Spot rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking on it.

"Nope."

That smirk would be the death of her.

"Spot, look, I don't have any clue what he's going to do about Harlem. No idea. So, there's really no point in-"

The boy cut her off.

"Dere's a point because I says dat there's a point, understand? Youse are going to come with me to Manhattan, whether you likes it or not."

Alex knew better than to argue.

"Yes sir."

She nodded her assent, though she knew she had no choice.

"Good. Now-"

He paused, looking at her closely.

"Go to sleep. Youse are lookin' tired."

Tentatively reaching out his hand to touch the bags under her eyes, Spot looked almost tender for a moment. Alex spun away, confused. Nearly sprinting up the stairs, she heard Conlon call out behind her,

"And Queenie? No more bread in da mornings. Da nuns are getting dere feelings hurt."

**So.... What did you think? Please _review, review, review!_ And please don't forget to nominate The Prize for the New York Newsies Awards. I posted the link to their site on my profile and it only takes a few minutes to submit a nomination! Also, my twitter account is only profile, if you're interested! Thanks for all your support! Happy New Year!**


	13. Rise and Shine

**Thanks for all the support! Please don't forget about the New York Newsies Awards! Please nominate The Prize!**

The next morning greeted Alex with a headache and the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had a long day ahead of her. Tip-toeing through the Lodging House, she went to the washroom. She tidied herself up, cleaning her body thoroughly and trying to comb the mess of hair. Giving up after several attempts to tame it, she threw it back in a newspaper cord. Tying it back in a bow that she knew would never last, she smiled at her reflection.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

The memory of West's voice, ringing out in the back of her mind, made her chuckle to herself. Smiling, she glided out of the washroom. She moved up the stairs toward the bunkroom, the smile on her faced widening as she heard a mixture of snores and sleep-talking pouring from the barely-cracked door. Pushing it open, she peered her head in to see if anyone was awake. Just as she expected, no one was. So, she threw the door open and crept in. Looking from bunk to bunk, she recognized some familiar boys.

Jazz laid on a top bunk, with Hayseed directly below him. Dealer laid haphazardly across a top bunk in the corner of the room, his legs dangling on the edge. Thumper was knocked out cold, but his right leg twitched incessantly, and Alex smiled to herself at the thought of him tapping it against the floor the night before. Roller slept on the bunk above his leader, clutching his brown cabbie hat to his chest as though it was a teddy bear. Spot laid in the bed directly below the little boy, curled up in a ball on his side. She resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his smooth, relaxed face, and opted instead to take in the site of a calm, serene, and not smirking Spot for a moment.

Then she caught sight of Spot's cane. It haughtily stood against the wall, as though it believed no one but it's owner would have the gall to touch it. Smirking to herself, Alex picked it up and started banging it against any possible surface as hard as she could. The racket began to wake the newsies up.

"Rise and shine, boys! It's a beautiful Brooklyn morning. Time to sell some papes!" she called, cheerily.

Slowly, one after the other, the newsies began to roll out of bed. Pouring into the washroom to begin their day, they all- in a pseudo act of modesty- wrapped blankets around themselves, no matter the degree to which they were dressed. Dealer sauntered up to Queenie, smiling his charming grin and wearing nothing but his pants.

"So, youse gonna whip me up some special breakfast, sugar?" he asked, winking at her.

Jazz came up behind him and pushed him aside.

"What do ya think ya doing?" he mumbled sleepily, dragging Dealer into the washroom to get dressed.

Alex smiled at the boys as they passed, wishing them all good morning. She tousled Roller's hair as he walked past, and he waved back at her, his eyes still closed.

"Where's Spot?" she asked, because she hadn't seen him pass her by.

"Hs gansu trabfansh," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

She leaned closer to the little boy.

"Come again?" she asked, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

"He's still sleeping," Roller said, meandering toward the washroom.

Still holding Spot's cane, Alex huffed quietly to herself. She wandered over to Spot's bunk, frowning lightly. Sure enough, as the rest of the Lodging House woke up around him, the boy was still out cold. With all the force she could muster, she repeatedly jabbed his shoulder.

"Wake up. We have to go to Manhattan."

He rolled over, a violent look in his eyes. Shooting up from his bed alertly, Spot stood and snatched the cane from her grasp. Wordlessly, he stalked into the bathroom.

Alex sighed, knowing it would indeed be a long day, and turned from Spot's bed. Her eyes locked with those of a now fully dressed Dealer. The boy was beaming and laughter played in his features.

"Ise thought it was funny, if it counts for anything," he said, smiling.

The girl shrugged.

"Hurry up, boys! You have ten minutes until the Distribution Center opens!" she called out.

After almost being run over by the slew of boys sprinting down the stairs, Alex made her way to the Lobby to find herself something to eat, leaving behind her Spot and Ghost in the washroom.

"So, Spot-" Ghost began as he carefully shaved around the various cuts on his face.

Spot looked up from washing his hands.

"Yeah, Ghost?"

"Ise was thinking that since I was supposed to be with Queenie for a while anyway, maybe I could come with youse two to 'Hattan today?"

He was nervous, that much Spot could gather. Spot had almost killed his lieutenant the night before when he found out that Jazz and his boys had more of Queenie's trust. Ghost just couldn't charm this girl. Neither could Spot, for that matter.

"No," came the short answer.

Ghost wiped the rest of the shaving cream off of his face.

"Come on, Spot. I know I messed up. Ise sorry. But please let me come. I can fix dis, I swear."

The two boys were silent for a moment, and Ghost actually thought Spot was considering it.

"No."

Spot lathered his face with shaving cream and began to pull the razor across his skin.

"Why not?"

Ghost moved around to Spot's side of the wash room and stood next to him.

"Because youse failed me once. I can't have you doin' it again."

Again, they were silent, and the only sound that filled the room was the sound of the razor flying across Spot's cheek.

"So-" Ghost began.

"I get myself beaten up, with cracked ribs, bruises and cuts all over meself, and you say I can't go with ya and the girl to Manhattan?" he asked.

Spot wiped the last of the shaving cream from his face and checked in his shaving tin to ensure he hadn't missed any spots.

Unfazed by Ghost's rant, he said,

"Yeah. Dat sounds about right."

Spot slapped his suspenders on his shoulders and his cap on his head.

"Dis is entirely unfair," Ghost muttered under his breath as Spot moved to go down the stairs.

"Maybe ya shouldn't have gotten yaself beat up like a little pansy," he called over his shoulder.

And just like that, Spot left Ghost in Brooklyn.

**How was it!? Please leave a review, especially if you haven't left one yet!! They mean the world to me! **


	14. Across the Bridge

**Please, please, please review! I'm begging you! If you haven't been reviewing, please start now! If you have been, thank you SO much!! I feel obligated to tell you that SkittsGirl and I were in a chapter writing race and she won. :( But her story, Everything Comes With a Price, is amazing. Please go read and review it!!! It's phenominal!**

Spot traipsed down the stairs, watching the backs of his newsies as they ran out the front door and out into the harsh Brooklyn morning.

"Are we going to leave any time before my teeth start falling out, Spot?" Queenie called, not noticing that the boy was almost directly behind her.

"Ah, keep your shirt on, Queenie," he said, patting her on one tense shoulder.

The girl spun on her heel to look at him, a severe look in her eyes. The harsh look melted when her eyes met his blue ones and she realized how close they were.

"One second thought-" he said, his signature smirk creeping across his face.

"Don't keep your shirt on."

He winked at her, and she groaned, rolling her eyes as she pushed away from him.

"May we just get this over and done with?" she asked, putting her cap on.

Spot nodded and pointed toward the doors.

"Ladies first, Queenie."

She spun past him, showing herself out of the building and onto the Brooklyn streets. He joined her, and they made their way to Manhattan. Spot observed her, from her tattered boy's clothes to her almost arrogant strut, and sighed. The sun glinted off her hair and shone in her eyes. Her silence nearly killed him. Spot always liked silence. Inane prattle bored him. But from her, the silence was maddening.

"So-" Spot said, halfway across the bridge,

"Why are youse like dis?" he asked, motioning to her.

Furrowing her eye brows, she looked at him.

"Like what?"

He sighed and thought for a moment.

"So….hoity-toity?"

Queenie gasped.

"I am not!" she shrieked, thoroughly offended.

Spot smirked and nodded.

"Yeah. You are. Why else would Ise have called youse Queenie?"

Gritting her teeth together, Queenie chose not to answer. Instead, she asked her own question.

"Well, why are you the way you are?" she asked.

The King of Brooklyn readjusted his cap and spit over the side of the bridge casually.

"Cause I have to be."

Rolling her eyes, Queenie scoffed.

"What does that even mean?"

"I gots to be tough for me boys, ya know? I gotta be smarter, tougher, and meaner dan anything out dere. I gotta be a leader. Dat's why I'm like dis."

He said it all very casually and nonchalantly, though Queenie knew how serious he took his job.

"West better start takin' lessons from me on how to act, or he's gonna be in da same situation dat Harlem's in right now," Spot said, shrugging.

Queenie stopped dead in her tracks.

"The boys in Queens love West."

Spot laughed and stopped with her.

"And I love that nice lookin' waitress at Tibby's. But I'd never ask her to lead me nowhere. Love just ain't grounds fa bein' a leader. And da boys in Queens are smart enough to understand dat, at least."

Effectively silenced, she started walking again. Spot whipped out his cane and moved in pace with her. A sickening feeling rolled over her when she caught sight of it and thought back to the large bandages around West's head from the very cane Spot was walking with. Nonetheless, Queenie tried to ignore the gold-tipped cane and all the memories it brought with it. But after a few steps, the small tap-tap-tap sound of the stick hitting the pavement drove the girl crazy.

"I hate that thing," she muttered.

A smirk stretched it's way across Spot's face.

"Youse just jealous," he said.

They made their way through the city of Manhattan in complete silence. Spot mentally berated himself for his smart mouth, and Queenie silently fumed at his impertinence. The city was teeming with life, despite the steadily dropping temperature. The sun was out, and the buildings were almost shining in it's light. Spot lead the way to Tibby's, where he knew Jack would be eating lunch. Jack is just too damn predictable, he thought to himself, swinging the door of the restaurant open to let Queenie in.

"Ah, Jacky-Boy! How goes it?" Spot said, smiling and spitting in his hand.

Extending it, he met Jack's hand in a casual handshake.

"Youse should know how it is, Spot. Just another day, another dollar."

Spot nodded and sat down.

"I hear ya, Jacky Boy."

Unsure of what to do, Queenie stood awkwardly behind Spot's chair.

"Youse wanna sit down?" Jack asked, smiling and pointing to a chair.

She opened her mouth then closed it, looking from the chair to Spot. Uncertain of whether he approved of her listening in on the beginning of the conversation, she refused to sit until Spot gave her the okay.

"Go ahead," he said, nodding.

"Who is dis?" Jack asked, looking at the girl with a smile.

"Dis is-" Spot began.

Queenie stuck her hand out for Jack to shake.

"Alex Mahony."

She paused and rolled her eyes with a humorless laugh.

"The boys call me Queenie."

Jack gasped quietly.

"So, youse da girl dat Queens gave up after the whole Boxing thing?"

Nodding briefly, Queenie smiled.

"What brings ya to dis side of the river, Spot?" Jack asked, leaning his chair back on two legs.

Spot smirked.

"A little birdie told me dat they're rising up against deir leader in Harlem."

Jack nodded.

"I heard dat too. Paris ain't done shit to deserve it, but I heard about it. What's it gotta do with me?"

The leader of Brooklyn looked at Jack with an uncompromising look in his steely eyes.

"We wanna hear what youse gotta say about it. And den Queenie here's gonna tell us what she knows about what ol' West is gonna do."

A loud sound resounded through the restaurant as the two front leg's of Jack's chair snapped on the floor.

"Youse already know what West is gonna do?" Jack said, looking at the girl with an intense gaze.

Queenie sighed.

"I-"

She was cut off by Spot smacking a hand over her mouth.

"Let's hear what Jacky-Boy's gotta say first," he said, giving her a sideways glance.

Jack took a long gulp of his drink.

"What's it to ya, Spot?" Jack asked, in a casual tone.

Spot shrugged.

"We gotta know what wese gonna do."

A half smile spread across Jack's face.

"But part a' me thinks youse already know what youse gonna do, Spot."

There was no change in the Brooklyn King's demeanor, save for the way his fist clenched around the top of his cane in a frustrated manner. But only Queenie saw that.

"Wese got an idea. But we don't want to do nothing official til we know if youse in or out."

Jack sighed.

"Wese gonna stay outta dis one. If dey want to go and do dis, it's dere business."

Pointedly, Jack looked at Queenie.

"So, what's our friends in Queens gonna do with all dis?" he asked.

Queenie gulped.

"Well, I don't know what West is planning to do," she said simply, looking at her hands as they rested on the table.

The leader of Manhattan let his eyes go wide.

"But I thought you said-"

Spot smirked and shrugged.

"I said she'd tell you what she knew."

For a moment, anger flashed through Jack's eyes, and fear rushed through Queenie. He simply pushed away from the table and stood, making his way toward the door.

"Always a pleasure doing business with youse, Spot."

He looked back at Queenie, about to bid her farewell, then seemingly rethought his decision.

"Well," he began, sighing.

"What kinda host would I be if Ise let youse take her back to Brooklyn without showing her a grand Manhattan time?" Jack asked with a smile.

The other boy smirked and looked at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

"I thought you'd never ask, Cowboy."

**Meeting the rest of the Manhattan newsies next chapter! And the REAL drama begins as West comes back into the picture as well!! I have it all written out, I just need some reviews! Don't forget about the New York Newsies Awards. Please, please, please, nominate me and this story!!**


	15. A Good Manhattan Time

**Please, please, please review! If you have been reviewing, thank you so much and please keep it up. If you haven't been reviewing, please start now!**

Jack returned to the table and ordered them both something to eat. Leisurely, they let time roll by as they dug into their food. The afternoon passed in a rush as they ordered drinks and talked about the newsie world. Finally, when they had had enough, the leader of Manhattan stood.

"Youse wanna be coming back with me to da Lodging House?" Jack asked, throwing some change on the table.

Spot nodded, and looked at Queenie.

"Wese can stay with youse guys for a while."

The three stood from their table and walked out onto the busy Manhattan streets just as the sun was beginning to set. Around them, the city was closing shop. The carts were being pack up and dragged home. The newsies sold their last papes. The store windows were going dark and the doors were being locked. Eventually, Jack's walk slowed in front of the Manhattan Newsboys' Lodging House.

"Home, sweet home," Jack said, sliding the door open and letting Queenie in first.

Bad idea.

"Ah, Cowboy! You brought us some fresh meat!" said Skittery, coming up behind her.

Queenie's face lit up when he came back around to face her. She gasped with delight.

"Da name's Skittery," he said, though a bit confused at her excitement.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her cap off. A shocked look passed over the boy's face.

"I know that Skitts. I've known you for what?" she did a mental calculation in her head.

"A year now?"

Skittery laughed and grabbed her up in a hug, which she happily returned. Spot, trying to keep his composure, stuck his cane in between them, effectively pulling them apart.

"Youse two know each other?" he asked, his eyes suspicious.

Queenie rolled her eyes, but the ecstatic look on her face did not falter.

"Yeah. Me and Mahony here go way back," Skittery said, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

A huge smile spread across Queenie's face.

"Wait a second," Skitts suddenly mumbled under his breath and took off toward the stairs.

"Blink! Race! I gots someone down here youse guys might wanna see!" he called.

Moments later, the two boys came lumbering down the stairs, disgruntled looks coloring their faces. Race had a deck of cards in one hand and money in the other, while Kid Blink was trying to get the money back from Race.

"Dis better be good, Skitts. We was right in da middle of a game and-"

Race stopped right in his tracks when he saw Queenie.

"Mahony!" he shouted, running full force toward her and wrapping her in a hug.

Blink rushed right behind him, pulling Queenie away from Racetrack. They chattered incessantly, Queenie asking how Skitts and Blink had gotten to be Manhattan newsies, and them asking how she'd gotten pulled into Spot's circle. There were long moments of laughter and prattle, and the three boys hugged the girl as many times as they could.

Gritting his teeth, the Leader of Brooklyn banged his cane against the floor, silencing the celebration.

"What da hell is goin' on here, and why don't Ise already know about it?" he asked, his cold eyes piercing through the three boys who currently had Queenie in a tight embrace.

The dark, cold look in his eyes, Queenie guessed, was nothing but veiled frustration. Little did she know how wrong she really was. The harsh expression in his eyes was something much more sinister. Jealousy. But completely unaware of that, she laughed and rolled her eyes at the boy, disentangling herself from the other newsies.

"These lovely gentlemen," she began, making Blink blush, "were my saviors in the Refuge when I was locked up in there."

Jack nearly jumped back, his laughter controlling him.

"_You _was in da Refuge?" he confirmed.

She nodded.

"What da hell for? Talkin' too good? Curtsyin' too low?" he asked through his laughter.

Her expression went somber for a moment.

"The girl's orphanage was closed and all the girls had been sent to New Jersey. But Warden Snyder-"she could barely choke out the name, "asked that I be sent to live with the boys in The Refuge."

The three boys who had been with her there looked at the floor, remembering the small girl and all the abuse she suffered at the hands of the warden and the other boys.

Jack still couldn't help himself from laughing, really setting the three boys who had been there's tempers ablaze.

"It can be a rough place for a girl alone," Skittery managed to get out through his anger, thinking of all times he, Race, and Blink hadn't been able to help her.

Finally noticing the livid expressions of the other three boys, Jack coughed awkwardly.

"Ise remember when youse guys were in dere," he said, trying to lighten the mood with his laughter.

Race laughed too, getting the hint that Jack was sorry for his behavior.

"Tryin' to run a floatin' poker game," he said, filling Spot in.

The three boys shook their heads at the memory.

"I thought ol' Kloppy was gonna kill the three of youse," Jack said, through his laughter.

Blink laughed at the memories.

"And he might've if the Bulls hadn't come to bring us away."

A gush of chilly wind blew through as Specs, Dutchy, Boots, and Itey walked in.

"And what is just so damn funny?" Boots asked.

Jack, Skittery, and Racetrack opened their mouths to speak, but Spot cut them off.

"Nothing," he said coldly.

Queenie sighed at his behavior and gave Skittery a look.

"Do youse boys know where a fella can get a drink around here?" Spot asked Jack.

Jack nodded and sent Boots and Itey to get some glasses and some Beer.

"Hey, let's get started with a game," Race said, shuffling a deck in his hands.

The boys congregated around a small table, squeezing Queenie on a couch between Spot and Blink.

"You in, beautiful?" Race asked with a wink as he chewed on an old cigar.

Scoffing, she reached across the table and plucked the cigar from his mouth.

"Nope," she said, allowing Skitts to light the cigar for her.

Race chuckled to himself as she coughed out the smoke. He took the cigar back when she offered it and dealt out a hand of cards to every newsie except for Queenie. The night rolled by, and the drinks poured freely. The boys laughed and joked, even getting Spot to loosen up a bit as the alcohol rushed through his veins. But of course, the night had to be interrupted. After ten, they'd let the alcohol supply get too low and sent Itey to get more. And then, around eleven o'clock, a loud knock could be heard from the door.

"Skitts, youse lost da last six hands. Youse gotta get da door. It's probably Itey with the reinforcements," Jack said, remarkably sober for the amount of Beer he had consumed.

Skittery stomped his foot once in annoyance, but stood nonetheless and crossed the room.

"Youse better 'ave gotten some-Oh," he said, obviously taken back by who was at the door.

From across the room, both Spot and Queenie saw who it was. The bandages were gone, much to Queenie's excitement. It was West.

"Can Ise talk to Jack?" he asked.

Skittery closed the door on him.

"What ever was that for?" Queenie said, standing up.

The boy rolled his eyes.

"Cowboy, West's here. He wants to talk with youse about Harlem, I expect."

Sighing, Jack folded his hand of cards and invited West in. Right behind him was Itey with a new bottle of whiskey and some beers. As the drinks were distributed, Spot pulled Queenie back to the couch and stared at her harshly. She knew without him even having to say anything what he wanted. Spot's harsh eyes were telling her that she wasn't to talk to West. Sighing, she resolved herself to it.

But she simply couldn't keep herself from looking at him. The game of poker and intense drinking resumed around her, but she slyly kept her eyes on West at all times. He was in a fierce conversation with Jack, arguing about something that she couldn't hear. She saw him anxiously rub the back of his neck, ands he knew whatever they were talking about was upsetting him. More than once she had to the urge to silence the whole room so she could listen to the two leaders converse. Queenie often fought the urge to stay sitting and silent. And sooner than she would have liked, Jack showed West to the door. Without a second glance back, West was gone. Had he even know she was there?

"Well," Skittery sighed as he cuddled up on Queenie's shoulder almost an hour after West's departure, "Ise tired."

She pushed his drunken head away, completely disorienting him.

"Den you better try to make it up dose stairs," she said.

"Da thought of stairs makes me wanna die," he nearly cried.

"But your shoulder's cozy enough," Skittery said, smiling as he closed his eyes and rested his head once more.

Spot stood, dragging Queenie up with him. She laughed as Skittery fell down to the couch.

"No, wese gotta get back to Brooklyn," he slurred.

Queenie steadied the boy, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

"Youse not going anywhere in dat condition," Jack said, disapproving.

The other boys, rubbing their eyes, either stumbled their way up the stairs or settled in to sleep in the Lobby.

"Wese got beds upstairs. Queenie'll help you upstairs. Wontcha, Queenie?" Jack asked, leaving little room for debate.

"Yeah, she'll do it for me," Spot supplied.

Sighing, Queenie started to move forward, dragging Spot along.

"Hey Queenie?" he began.

They began the slow and painful trek up the stairs.

"Yeah, Spot?"

"Youse beautiful. Even when you wears dose boys clothes youse got on now."

She ignored him, rolling her eyes. If he was setting up some drunken trap, she surely was not going to fall into it.

"Hey, Queenie?" he said, once they made it up the stairs and into the bunkroom.

"Yeah, Spot?" she asked.

"Can Ise ask ya something?" he asked, sitting on a vacant bed and pointing down at his boots.

She moved down to unlace them.

"You can ask. I just may not answer."

On her knees, she unlaced his first boot and started on his other one.

"Why don't ya love me?" he asked.

Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. Spot's eyes were honest and sincere, though hazy and unfocused from the alcohol. She couldn't decide what kind of stunt he was pulling.

At a loss for words, Queenie continued to keep helping him into bed.

"Ise saw da way you looked at West."

He grabbed the collar of her boy's shirt and pulled her dangerously close.

"Why don't youse look at me like that?" he asked.

Queenie sighed and pushed him into bed. If he was hoping she was going to fall into his trap so he could boast to the entirety of Brooklyn about her being his conquest, he was wrong. She was not nearly that stupid.

"Goodnight, Spot," she said, ignoring the troublesome questions that fluttered through her head.

She moved to leave the room, but could have sworn she heard him drunkenly slur,

"Fine. Don't answer. I don't need youse anyway."

**_Please, please, please read and review!!_ A huge major shout out to SkittsGirl, my bestgood friend and my writing partner, so to speak. Please go read and review her story Everything Comes with a Price. It's amazing!**


	16. Where Are We Going?

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the support!!! Please, please,please keep it up! If you've been reviewing, thank you and please keep doing it! If you haven't been reviewing, please start now!**

The next morning, of course, Spot did not remember a thing.

"Let's get rollin', Queenie," he called to her, already leaving her behind as she said her goodbyes to the Manhattan Newsies.

She sighed as Kid Blink pulled her into a hug. Blink, her one eyed friend, had always been the first to understand her. He could tell what she was feeling, no matter how hard she tried to mask it, and she both loved and hated this part of him.

"It's only a few more weeks," he whispered in her ear.

Nodding against his chest, she fought back tears. She quickly pulled away from him and gave a quick hug to Skittery, who muttered so only she could hear,

"Youse ever need anything, you come find me."

Alex nodded to him, but broke apart and moved onto Racetrack.

"See ya later, sweetface," he said, clinging to her.

She wrenched herself away from him and lightly slapped his cheek, rolling her eyes at his antics. After a quick nod to Jack, she ran to catch up with Spot. The pair of them walked in complete silence. Around the two newsies, the city was barely starting to wake up. The sun tip-toed over the sky-line, and the air still smelled faintly of alcohol and debauchery from the previous night's activities. Street cleaners were just peeking out from the alleyways and beginning their routines. To Alex, this meant only one thing: she was up far too early.

"Hey, where are you taking me?" she asked as Spot took a turn away from the bridge.

He rolled his eyes at her and readjusted his cap.

"Don't ask questions, just go wid it," he said.

Like a small child, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I am not going anywhere until you tell me where we are going."

Spot sighed and turned on her.

"Look, I gotta headache da size of this whole city poudin' on my head, the weight of a whole borough on my back, and Ise so hungry I think I could eat you. Ise got no patience for ya games dis morning. If youse wanna stay heres, fine. But don't think I won't tell everyone in dis city dat West welched on his bet."

And with that, the boy turned on his heel and began walking. Alex knew that he would do everything he said and more, if she provoked him to. So she moved from her place on the sidewalk, quickening her stride to match his. Soon, the city started to shift around her, from the bright, if sleepy at the early hour, Manhattan, to a darker, quieter part of the city. But in an instant, she knew where she was. In that moment, her heartbeat quickened and her mouth went dry.

"West Side?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Ignoring her, Spot took her right to the heart of the borough, toward their Lodging House. West Side was a harsh place, not nearly as harsh as Brooklyn, but it could be dangerous if you made enemies. Alex took in the sights around her, people selling, people buying. The sun was out, but the chill in the wind rattled Alex right to her bones.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to be here," she told Spot as they pushed through the crowds to the distribution center.

Spot stopped and turned on her.

"And why is dat, Queenie?"

Her resolve to be confident and collected dissolved when she saw his eyes. They mocked her, deviously laughing at her. After catching the change in her whole demeanor, he turned to an alley.

"I just think-" she began, her voice quiet.

She looked around, observing the area around her. The dirty alley was covered with old papes and the walls were splattered with old posters. Behind her, she caught sight of a shadow scamper across the alley and out toward the sunshine. Alex wondered just how many newsies had been watching and following them since they had entered the entered the unfriendly territory.

"I think it would be best if I go back to Brooklyn," she said.

A loud thump could be heard behind them as someone leapt from a fire escape to the hard concrete alleyway.

"Aw, but Queenie. Den you'd just ruin all da fun!" a voice said from behind her.

She knew who it was before she even turned. In her mind's eye, she saw the image of the tall, well built boy with the red shirt and the eyes so dark they were almost black.

"Captain, I think you've had more than your fair share of fun at my expense."

Looking between the two with interest, Spot went up to spit shake the other leader's hand.

"I see things go well for youse, huh Spot?" Captain said, suggestively making eyes between he and Queenie.

Spot shrugged.

"Ah, Youse know how it is, Captain."

Captain smirked and nodded. He could see how gradually uncomfortable he and Spot's easy conversation made the girl become. From the corner of his eye, he saw the fear she struggled to hide. He loved the control he had over her. He loved making her squirm, because despite the cool façade, he hated her.

"So, dat was some fight you had da other day."

He lead Spot deeper into the alleyway, knowing that Queenie would cautiously follow at a distance.

"One a' my best, if I do say so meself," Spot said.

Throwing a glance behind him, Captain looked at Queenie, who was staring at her feet.

"What about ol' Queenie back there? She fight?" he asked, his voice thick with implications.

Spot looked back at her too.

"Ise not sure. Why? Youse been wonderin?"

Captain smirked and led the two around a corner.

"Nah, but Ise got some guys who do."

The leader of the West Side had lead them straight to a dead end, where most of the West Side's newsies were huddled in a menacing circle. Queenie looked over to Spot.

"You knew about dis?" she asked.

He shook his head, though a smirk played on his lips.

"Yeah, Captain, look, wese gotta talk about dis whole Harlem thing and Ise gotta get back to Brooklyn, so-"

Walking behind Queenie and pushing her forward, Captain spoke in a deceptively calm voice.

"All dat can be done after dis, Spot. Come on. Don't tell me youse ain't interested in seein' dis, too."

Knowing that it was futile to try and stop Captain, Spot nodded. With one more push, Queenie was in the center of a circle of boys.

"So, here's how dis rolls, Queenie. Youse get to pick any one of us. And da two of youse is gonna fight until one a' ya gives or passes out. Understand?"

Queenie threw her cap at Spot with all the force she had and tied her hair up in a newspaper cord she found on the ground. She nodded, agreeing to Captain's terms.

Throwing her gaze from boy to boy, Queenie made the circle. Each newsie looked more hopeful than the last, all puffing out their chests with pride, hoping to be the one she picked. Finally, she settled on the largest one, a tough guy named Brute, and waved him into the center of the ring. The boys around her laughed, and Spot felt his heart race. He'd seen guys twice her size get hammered by Brute. Was she crazy?

"Youse know dat you can't go back on dis?" Captain asked.

Queenie nodded and pulled herself into a fighting position, rolling her eyes.

"Let's just get this over with."

**Thank you all so much! Please read and review!! I hope you like it! The fight is next chapter!!**


	17. Brute and the Fight

**Thanks everyone for reviewing! This is my first story ever to hit 100+reviews and it is so amazing! Thanks for your support. Sorry for the cliffy last chapter. Anyway, if you've reviewed, thanks again. If you haven't, why not start now!? :)**

Brute shrugged his shirt off and tossed it to one of the newsies outside of the ring. The boys around them whopped and cat-called, the air thick with excitement and hidden tension. In the corner, some boys gathered, taking bets and laying their money down on Brute. Captain stood next to Spot, smirking as he watched. He knew that Queenie was arrogant enough to pick the biggest guy in the group. But Captain knew Brute would never lose to a girl. Spot stood, holding Queenie's cap in his hands, while leaning on his cane.

"Maybe dis ain't such a good idea. I can't bring damaged goods back to West."

Captain scoffed.

"She agreed to dis. Ain't ya fault she's a moron."

As Brute prepared himself in the corner of the ring, Alex rolled up her sleeves and readjusted her footing. Smiling a tiny smile, she recalled the hours she spent with Rusty learning how to fight. West had demanded she learn to look after herself, and Rusty had taught her well.

"_The key to winnin' any fight ain't being better or stronger or smarter or faster. It's 'bout focusing. Youse gotta be thinking one step 'head a' dem. Youse gotta get inside dey heads. And youse can't do any a' dat unless ya focusing."_

His words reverberated in her head, and she struggled to block out the noise of the crowd and the jeers her opponent. But Spot, his arms shaking with fear and anger reverberating from every inch of him, heard what Brute said.

"Sorry I'm gonna have to be the one at whip ya, Sweetface."

Everything from outside the ring was silenced for Queenie. Brute charged forward, and she knew he hoped to knock her to the ground. But she spun out of his way, so fast she was nothing but a blur to the crowd around her. Moving behind him, effectively switching places, she took advantage of his turned back. She gave a quick, sharp jab to his left side. He gasped in pain, twitching his body toward the injury. Jetting her hand around his head, grasping his chin, she snapped his neck toward her, away from his first injury. His body swung wildly, and Queenie stepped back as he turned toward her. She allowed him a moment to regain his bearings, knowing he would be disoriented.

Coming at her again, he threw his first punch. Queenie ducked quickly, Brute's fist barely missing her. She stood fully again, throwing a punch of her own. Disoriented, he slowly tried to dodge, but she hit him squarely on the chin. He stumbled back, and she didn't know until a moment too late that his pain was an act. Using the momentum to push him forward, Brute swung his fist in her direction. But she saw it too late. He made contact with her eye. She threw her head back, and Brute roughly shoved her to the ground. Landing on her back, Queenie let her head loll back, harshly hitting the pavement.

Brute scrambled on top of her, rearing his fist back. Pushing through the red haze of the pain, Queenie shot her hand out, blocking his blow. Wrapping her fingers about his wrist, she gathered her strength and threw him away from herself. He landed on his back, surprised by her sudden energy. She swung on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist. Though she could see him fading, he smirked.

"I like it this way," he said, lifting his hips grotesquely to show her what he meant.

Grimacing at him, she punched him with all her might. She savored the sound of his head hitting the pavement and the sight of his eyes rolling back in his head. When she was sure he was knocked out, Queenie rose to her feet.

Almost instantly, the world came into focus around her. The newsies scrambled to collect money on bets, assist Brute, or try to steal their money back from the bet's winners. Spot snatched her up, grabbing her arm. He drug her away from the group of steadily angering West Side Newsies. Pulling her through the back streets, she struggled. But he knew that if they stopped, he wouldn't be able to protect her from Captain. Spot moved quickly, ignoring her protests and fighting until they finally reached Manhattan once more.

Throwing her roughly onto a park bench, he shouted angrily,

"What da hell did you do dat for? You gotta death wish?" he asked.

She shook her head, lightly pressing on her eye to feel the extent of the damage.

"No."

Spot whipped out his cane, completely ignoring the frightened look in her eyes, and began to pace with it.

"Den why did you pick Brute, huh?"

Queenie rolled her eyes at him.

"I would have thought it obvious," she said, feeling the back of her head, not at all surprised to find blood there.

He scoffed at her.

"Youse unbelievable, ya know dat?"

Whipping a handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve, she nodded, smiling.

"Why'd ya do it, Queenie?" he asked.

She stood, applying pressure to the back of her head with her handkerchief.

"I'm a thin, tall girl who is quick and light on my feet. It would have done me absolutely no good to fight a boy who was tall, thin and fast."

Queenie started to walk away from the dumbstruck boy, but turned around.

"And are you angry with me? Don't you think it should be the other way around?" she asked.

Spot gave her a once-over with his eyes, allowing them to turn stone cold once more.

"Youse angry with me? What da hell for?" he shot back.

She laughed under her breath.

"You can not tell me you didn't know that that was going to happen today."

The boy didn't speak for a long moment.

"I knew it. I don't know why I'm surprised. But I knew it."

Turning to go back to Brooklyn, she heard him speak with his usual arrogant tone.

"Ise didn't know it was gonna happen. Honest. A runner came to Brooklyn de other day and asked to see us. Dey didn't tell me what for. I thought it was for da stuff in Harlem."

Spot watched her chest heave with a sigh as a cold November wind wrapped around the two of them.

"And anyway, what would it matter if Ise did know it was gonna happen? Youse couldn't do a thing about it."

Walking in front of her, knowing she would follow, Spot cursed himself for being so witty. They walked in complete silence all the way to Brooklyn. The evening was just settling in over the borough as the two made their way to the Lodging House. People were beginning to settle in for supper in the houses around them, and the night was creeping upon them. When they stepped in the Lodging House, Queenie was nearly run over by Spot's newsies. Roller lead the pack.

"Wese was about at send out some Bulls to track ya down, Queenie. Wese was getting so worried," he said.

She ruffled his hair, and Spot knelt down to be at eye level with the little boy.

"And no ones was getting worried 'bout me?" he asked, his stone eyes staring directly into Roller's.

"We don't really care about youse, Spot," Jazz butted in., joking lightheartedly.

A warning look from Spot silenced any other comments he had.

"Yeah, Queenie. Youse had us real worried," Ghost said, smiling at her.

"And hungry!" Dealer cut in.

The newsies nodded in agreement.

"Well, we're just going to have to fix that, then, won't we?" she asked, a smile going across her face.

Queenie slipped her cap off her head, hung it on the hat rack and went to prepare a meal for the Brooklyn Boys.

**Please review! I'm expecting the next chapter (featuring some more possible West time and definitely some time at the Docks/Spot and Alex action...) to be up tomorrow. :)**


	18. Selling Spot's Papes

**Please read and review!**

Three weeks blew through Brooklyn like a quick wind off the river. Alex tried her best to keep the trip to West Side as quiet as she could, though there were the obvious questions about how she got her shiner and the other bruises.

"Heya Queenie?" Roller asked one day when he was keeping her company in the kitchen.

Queenie threw some flour on a table and laid out some dough.

"Yes, Roller."

He looked at his feet, scuffling them shyly.

"How did youse get that?" he asked, pointing at her eye.

Gritting her teeth, Alex let a sigh go through them.

"It is none of your concern, Roller," she said, ignoring the pitiful look of concern that covered his face.

Roller stood there for a long moment, looking up at the girl.

"Did Spot do it?" he asked, his voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible.

Alex gasped and knelt down on the floor to be at eye level with the little boy.

"No! Of course not. Why would you say something like that?" she asked, completely mortified.

He shrugged.

"I dunno. Some a' da guys was talkin' about it and Ise was just wonderin'."

Alex stood there for a long time, thinking about what that meant. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew Spot would never lay a hand on her. Of course, she knew he wanted to at times, because she was not unnacustomed to the flash men got in their eyes when they just wanted to hit something. But whether from fear of what West would do to him if he returned her injured or some decency he was hiding deep in his heart, she knew he wouldn't hurt her.

"Well, you can tell the guys that that isn't the truth at all," she said, smiling, tweaking his nose, and returning to her chores.

Roller didn't say another thing about it, but on occasion, she would catch him looking at Spot with a fire in his eyes. The weeks went on without consequence, and the days rolled as they should. Ghost's wounds healed nicely, though Alex's stubbornly stuck around. Nevertheless, she worked her fingers to the bone, making sure the Lodging House was spotless and every newsie had a hot meal at the end of the day.

But the only light in the darkness were the weekly reports from Queens. She developed an easy friendship with Cutter, Spot's birdie, after the first report. He knew how much she cared for West, so every time he returned from his assignment, he always managed to slip away from his leader's company for a moment to tell Queenie how her boys back in Queens were doing.

"So, how are they?" she asked him, as they met in her bedroom during his fourth Sunday report.

He shrugged.

"Deys okay, I guess. Missin' you a good bit."

Nervously, he turned to go.

"That's it?" she asked, concerned.

Biting his tongue, he nodded and moved to leave once more.

"There's something the matter, isn't there?" she pried.

Cutter shook his head, blushing. He knew that if he turned to look he would tell her the news. And he couldn't bear to see a pretty girl cry. Alex sighed.

"Okay. Goodnight, then, Cutter."

She watched the boy nearly sprint out the room, knowing that something was going down in Queens. Making a promise to herself to find out from Spot the next day, Alex quickly muttered a prayer for her boys back home, and slipped into bed.

The next day, after the boys had been woken, the clean clothes hung on the roof to dry, and the entire bunkroom scrubbed from wall to wall, Alex ventured outside. She knew from the boys that any spare time after the afternoon edition came out was spent at the docks. A frigid wind was blowing off the water, but Alex was sure that even snow wouldn't stop them from goofing off on their docks. Venturing down toward the river, Alex planned what she would say to the harsh leader. They hadn't spoken since the disasterous trip, and she wanted to have a plan.

"Uh- Spot?" she called up the crow's nest, throwing any plan out the window.

She had come from the city side, blocked by large crates, so the boys around Spot and by the water had not yet caught sight of her, something for which she was truly grateful. Alex just wanted to get it over and done with. The boy turned and looked down with a smirk.

"So, da Queenie decided to finally grace me with her presence," he said, then began a poor imitation of her behavior weeks before, "Let me just let dis minute soak in."

Groaning under her breath, she remembered just why everyone hated him.

"I need to speak to you," Alex called up to him.

Climbing down lithely, Spot landed in front of her.

"And Ise got papes to sell, so wese got a problem, don't we?"

Alex gave a frustrated scream at him, resisting the urge to hit him as hard as she could. She had to know what was happening to West and Queens. She had to. For a moment, she weighed her options. Locking her jaw and swallowing her pride, she looked at Spot.

"I'll sell for you. Just talk to me."

Spot laughed through a smirk and pulled his cane out.

"Really? Youse can sell?"

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Are you really asking me that?" she asked, yanking the stack of what she guessed to be about fifty papes out of his hands.

The boy nodded.

"Then, yes, to answer your question. I can sell papes. Can we talk now?" she asked, impatiently.

After pretending to consider it for a moment, Spot merely used his cane to point forward. Queenie selling papes? That was a sight he had to see.

"Let's get goin', Queenie. Youse can talk on de way to my sellin' spot."

They walked a few blocks in silence, and Alex tried to decide where to start.

"I want to know how things are going back in Queens."

She decided that being blunt and using small words were the best way to get through to him. Spot smirked as they passed a gaggle of rose sellers who looked at the pair with jealous eyes.

"I thought dat's what you had Cutter for," he said simply.

Alex looked at him, confused.

"Youse really didn't think Ise knew about dat?"

They came up on the park, where Spot normally sold. Alex cleared her throat.

"Well, you see, I think he withheld information from me."

Spot looked down on her with a mockingly sarcastic sympathetic look.

"Aw, you poor thing," he said.

Looking up into his steely blue eyes, she begged.

"Please, Spot. Tell me what's going on."

He patted her on the back.

"Nah. Youse got work to do."

Gently shoving her forward, Spot settled in to watch the massacre. There was no way she could sell 50 papes, so not only would he get a free show, but he wouldn't even have to tell her about the situation in Queens.

Alex looked around the expansive park, thinking about an angle and a way to work the crowd.

"Ah-hah," she muttered under her breath.

On a nearby circle of benches, a Lady's Club was holding a picnic tea. They all sat primly, chatting amiably with their teacups in hand. Each woman was dressed to her best, covered in furs and flowers alike. Shrugging her thin coat off and pulling the newspaper cord out of her hair, Alex threw them at Spot.

"Watch and learn," she muttered.

Taking in a deep breath and calling up tears, she frantically sprinted in the general direction of the group of ladies. She looked behind her as though she was running from someone, and tripped over one of their baskets.

"Oh!" They all gasped, as though it had been rehearsed.

Sniffling pathetically, Alex looked up at the women. Her papers were strewn among them, though mostly intact. The scandalized looks on the ladies' faces softened when they saw her black eye, bruises, and tear stained cheeks.

"My dear," one of the ladies began, getting off of the bench to help her up, "Are you alright?"

Concern brimmed in the woman's eyes, and she led Alex to a seat on the bench. The woman next to her scooted away, the only one who didn't seem to share the other womens' sympathy.

"I'm afraid I'm not, madame," Alex said, looking up at the woman with large eyes.

Spot looked at what was going on, and snuck behind a near-by tree to hear better.

"Well, what happened?" One woman asked, sipping her tea lightly.

Looking down, as though ashamed, Alex began her story.

"My parents died about a year ago. And, I suppose with the loss of our fortune to my father's unfortunate debts-"

The women made sympathetic sighs and noises, and Spot rolled his eyes. She was really laying it on thick.

"I suppose I just fell in with the wrong crowd. I've only just escaped from my uncle who was going to sell me to-"

She paused, as though trying to collect herself. Alex knew just how to play to people, especially women like this.

"Sell me to a brothel!" she shrieked, before hiding her face in her hands.

All the ladies gasped, scandalized.

"What are these?" One lady asked, picking up a paper.

Alex dropped to her knees and began collecting them.

"I was going to try to sell them, to be able to buy myself out of bondage. But I got them and my uncle came, and I don't think I'll be able to sell a single one!"

She said everything so melodramatically, Spot almost started laughing. The leader of the lady's club took the papes from Alex's hands.

"Well, ladies, I believe we can do some good here."

Enthusiastically, the women agreed, taking every pape from Alex and handing her a dollar each.

"Oh, thank you so much!" Alex said, smiling at them through fake tears.

Tapping her on the head, the leader said,

"It's the least we can do, you strong, strong girl."

Alex thanked them again and started to leave them.

"Can we bring you anywhere, dear?" someone called behind her.

She shook her head.

"You have a contact then? You've somewhere to go?"

Nodding, she left the park to meet up with Spot. Exiting the wrought iron gates, she smirked, waving the money in Spot's general direction.

"Can I sell papes?" she imitated him, scoffing.

Spot shook his head at her, reaching for the money, which she lithely pulled out of his grasp as they walked toward the lodging house.

"Youse laid it on too thick. Any other ladies might've seen right through ya act."

He just couldn't pay her a compliment.

"Yes, well. I'm the one with the money, aren't I?" she asked playfully, her eyes dancing.

Turning down an alley way, taking the back streets to home, Spot said,

"Where'd ya learn to sell like that?"

Alex shrugged, counting the bills.

"I just picked it up. When you are nearly starving to death, you learn fast."

Spot struggled for words.

"Eh- Look, Uh- Dat was good, Queenie."

She looked over at him to make sure he wasn't joking.

"Um, Thank you, Spot."

Awkwardly, they made their way home in utter silence, and Alex completely forgetting about the trouble in Queens.

**So, how was it? A bit of a filler, I know. But it's getting really exciting soon. There may be some romantic moments in the next chapter....:) Please review!**


	19. The Situation in Queens

**I am so sorry that this chapter took so long!!! I truly didn't mean for this to happen, but my computer charger broke and I'm posting this from the public library. :) Haha. Please don't forget to nominate this story for a New York Newsie Award! Linkage is on my profile!**

**So...If you've been reviewing, thanks and please keep it up! If you haven't, please begin now!!!**

Three more days passed after Queenie's big sell in the park. Spot refused to speak to her, and every moment her unrest grew. She sat awake at night, images flashing through her head. In her imagination, she saw her boys on the street, kicked out because they couldn't make rent. She saw them half-starved and freezing to death. She saw West walking out and leaving her boys on their own. Almost every waking moment was spent imagining the worst and hoping for the best. But the whispers and stares from the Brooklyn boys never ceased, and only increased her uneasiness.

Finally, one night, after dinner had been served and Spot was conveniently missing, Queenie put Ghost in charge and shrugged on a shawl.

"I'm going out," she called behind her, slamming the door.

She shivered as the snow hit her skin, and took off in the first direction she thought of. Traveling toward the river and the docks, she prayed he was there. She knew she couldn't stand the weather for much longer, and might cave and just go back to the Lodging House if he wasn't at the docks. Night was steadily falling over the city, though the sun was still setting over the horizon. Quickening her stride when she heard several low, devious sounding cat calls from the alleys around her, Queenie rushed to the Crow's nest. Seeing Spot's silhouette, she called to him.

"Can I come up?"

Queenie heard him laugh, low and humorless.

"If I said no, would you listen?" he asked.

Without answering, she scrambled up the crow's nest, nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach and worry clouding her mind.

"What's on ya mind dere, Queenie?" he asked, noticing her tense stature as she stood next to him.

The two stood in the crow's nest, side by side. The last of the light sparkled against the water, but Spot was the only one who could bring himself to enjoy the view. Queenie was shaking from the cold and wringing her hands from the nerves.

"I want you to tell me what's going on in Queens," she nearly whispered, looking at her feet.

Spot sighed.

"Dere's nothing goin' on," he said, smirking.

In spite of his effort to hide it with that smirk, Queenie could see the troubled look flash across his face.

"Tell me," she implored.

Silence passed, and Queenie looked at him, truly taking his image in for the first time. His face was smooth and his skin was dark from the long hours he spent in the sun. Snowflakes gently settled themselves on his eyelashes and hair. He held his hat in his hands, and his dirty blonde locks fell in his eyes haphazardly. Somewhere, deep inside her, she felt a warm feeling when she looked at him, but she quickly shook it off.

"Youse ain't gonna like it," he warned.

Her stomach turned, and she gulped. Images of the worst flashed through her mind, and she fought tears back.

"Just tell me."

Spot turned away from her, fighting with himself. He didn't want to tell her. He simply couldn't tell her. Like Cutter, he couldn't bear to make a pretty-no, he thought to himself- beautiful girl cry. Gently, she touched his shoulder. Fighting the shocking feeling that the simple contact gave him, Spot turned to her. He could see the pain in her eyes. So he did what he did best. He walked away.

"Wese gotta go back to the Lodging House," he warned, throwing himself to the ground of the docks from the Crow's nest.

His elusive behavior lit her up, and the images of her boys suffering ran in double time through her head.

"No! Spot! Don't walk away from me!" She shouted at him.

She threw herself onto the ladder, scrambling down. But suddenly, she felt herself slip. First her boot, then her hands, and finally she let go of the structure completely. A sharp gasp escaped from her lips.

"Queenie!" a voice shouted.

She felt, rather than the sharp feeling of the dock's wood on her back, a pair of strong arms envelop her, snatching her right out of the air. Looking up at Spot, she could have sworn she saw worry and care flit across his face. Leaping from his grasp and straightening out her skirts, she ignored his questions about her well being. Strong hands gently shook her shoulders and at last, she looked at him.

"Youse okay?" he asked.

Spot looked at her, out of breath with worry. He had seen her tumbling through the air and bolted to snatch her. He gave the girl in front of him a once-over with his eyes, and seeing no noticeable bruising, accepted the gentle nod of her head as confirmation of her well-being.

"Let's go," he commanded.

He tried to walk away again.

"Spot! Come back here!" she called after him.

Continuing to walk away, he ignored her. She struggled to keep up with him, fighting to swallow her fear for her newsies. Finally reaching him in the middle of an alley way, she grabbed him and pulled him toward her.

And even in the steadily blackening night, Spot could see the light dancing off of the tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm not going to ask again," she said, breathless.

Spot smirked and pulled her shivering form to him.

"Good. Den wese can go back to da-"

She yanked herself out of his grasp, spinning into a harsh brick wall.

"That's not what I meant. Either you tell me or-"

Stepping away from her, he asked, somewhat amused,

"Are youse threatening me?"

Barreling on, she finished,

"Or I'm going back to Queens to find out myself."

Spot sighed, and turned the bravado on once more.

"You wouldn' do dat."

Without missing a beat, she replied,

"Watch me."

Spinning on her heel, Queenie began to stalk away. For a few moments, the only sound was the click-clack of her boots on the pavement. Spot swallowed heavily. He couldn't let her wander back to Queens on her own, especially at that time of night.

"Rabbit's missin' ," he whispered.

Queenie turned, looking at him in the dim light.

"Beg your pardon?"

He swallowed again, letting his voice get a little louder.

"Rabbit's missing."

And with that, Queenie took off running into the night.

**So.....? What do you think?! Let me know in a review! Again, sorry about the delay!!! PLEASE don't forget about the New York Newsie Awards!! I would love a nomination or two! Linkage is on my profile!!**


	20. Running

**To all who have been reviewing, thank you! To those who haven't, why not start now?! Follow me on twitter! Linkage is on the profile!**

Spot sighed, taking off after her at a slower pace, barely tailing her. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, that even under the dire circumstances she would not cross the border between Queens and Brooklyn. She tore through the harsh Brooklyn streets, passing up crowded bars and darkened windows, damp alleyways and warm restaurants alike. The night chilled around them as snow began to fall, and Spot silently hoped she was warm enough through her thin shawl. Berating himself for telling her about the young boy's disappearance, Spot also allowed himself to blame her. She just took off into the night without any explanation or warning, running through a particularly dark and disturbing borough. He knew she was a dunce sometimes, but he didn't know she was that big of a dunce.

He knew why she felt the need to run, of course. Perhaps he could never understand the relationship she had with the little boy, but he knew why she felt the need to look. Not once had Spot ever visited Queens without seeing Bear's little brother, Rabbit, tagging along at Queenie's heels. He knew that the boy looked up to her as a mother, just as she looked at him like a little brother, if not a son.

As Spot ran a few paces behind the girl, he allowed himself to think of the way she might take care of their children-Spot and Queenie's, that is- but banished the thought almost as quickly as it came.

Finally, they reached the border between the two boroughs, and he watched her fall to a sitting position on the curb, her head in her hands. For a long moment, he merely stood there, a few paces behind her- watching sobs wrack her body, and the light snow gently sink into her skin. His heart broke at the sight of the hopeless girl. Sighing and laying his cane down, he swallowed his pride and sat down next to her.

They didn't speak. She sensed his presence next to her, but she refused to open her mouth. Spot simply didn't know what to say. Tentatively, he reached out to the girl, patting her on the back. Sitting up a little straighter, she seemed to realize where she was and who she was with, and tried to blink back tears. Her eyes met Spot's. It didn't take a genius to see the anguish in her eyes, so Spot was able to pick up on it.

"It's okay to cry, ya know," he said simply, pulling her into his embrace.

Though a bit shocked, Queenie couldn't control herself. She threw her face into his shoulder and allowed herself to cry freely, not even caring that she herself would have to wash the tear stains from the shirt when they returned to Brooklyn.

"We'se gonna find 'him," Spot repeated quietly, rubbing small circles on her back and hugging her to him tightly.

Realizing this might very well be the only time she would ever allow him to be that close to her, Spot absorbed every sensation. The feeling of her body against his. The light tingling he felt when her tear drops hit his shoulder. The way she seemed to completely trust him in that one, brief moment.

After too short a time, Spot began to feel her pull away. Allowing her to freely move, Spot immediately adopted his old persona once more.

"Wese gotta get back to Brooklyn. It's not gonna do nothin' for my reputation if dey sees ya so close to Queens," he said.

Queenie nodded and sighed. Standing, she whipped a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes with it before returning it to it's place.

"Let's go."

She began to take off down the dark street, walking back towards Brooklyn. Spot smirked.

"Ah, no, Queenie. It wouldn' do ta have da Queenie walking all da way back to da Lodgin' House, now would it?"

The girl looked at him quizzically, then around at the nearly empty street.

"Ise happen to know of some folks who'd be willin' to get us to back home."

Gulping, he reached out and took her hand in his. His dark, calloused, ink stained hand wrapped it's way around hers, and he began to pull her away from Queens. Surprised, Queenie allowed him to lead her down an alley, behind a warehouse.

"A'right, Larry! Ise gonna get dese over to Brooklyn. Hold ya horses!" A large, stout man shouted as he walked out of the back of the building.

Holding his index finger over his mouth for Queenie to be silent, Spot waved her over to a wagon. It was large, covered with canvas, and holding stacks and stacks of papes.

"C'mon," Spot said, giving his hand so she could step easier into the back of the wagon.

He followed after her, pulled the canvas over the back, and relaxed against the papes. It was dark, neither could see the other, but Spot could sense Queenie's discomfort. The cart rolled to a start, and Spot waited a few long, tense moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"Ise swear ya boys gonna find him, Queenie. Deys lookin' all over. All da boroughs is looking. Even West Side."

He chuckled lightly, and smiled even bigger when he heard her do the same.

"He's just so little, Spot. He shouldn't be out there on his own," she said after the laughter died down.

"I know, Queenie."

In the darkness, he reached across the wagon blindly, groping for her hand. When he found one, he took it in both of his large hands, rubbing them with his thumb in what he hoped to be a comforting gesture. He wasn't used to all the sentimental stuff, and he didn't have any idea what a dame like Queenie would like.

"Thanks, Spot," she said, nearly silent.

The wagon began to roll to a stop, and Spot lead Queenie as they jumped from it.

"Let's go home, Queenie."

And with that, they returned to the Lodging House.

** Read and Review!! Kind of a filler, but a bit of a fluffy stuff. :) Please nominate me for the New York Newsie Awards! PLEASE! And follow me on twitter like Skitt'sGirl (My best fanfiction friend) does! Because she follows me, she knows when I'm gonna update, some chapter spoilers, and she can communicate more directly with me! It's awesome! I can't wait to see y'all on twitter! Linkage is on my profile! :D**


	21. Spot's Night

**To all who have been reviewing, thank you! To those who haven't, why not start now?! Follow me on twitter! Linkage is on the profile!**

They returned to the Lodging House late that evening, with Alex almost falling asleep at Spot's side. The house was almost silent when they arrived, and the fires appeared to have gone out some time ago. Alex stumbled up the stairs towards her bedroom, Spot helping her as she went. Her stone eyelids lowered themselves of their own accord, and she struggled to keep them even halfway open. Eventually, Spot swung her into his arms, carrying her up the final steps of the stairs. He tried to tread lightly, knowing that his steps made loud creaking noises that resounded through the entire building.

Pushing the door open with his back and crossing the bedroom that was once his, Spot laid Queenie down gently on the bed. Her eyes almost immediately slid completely shut, and her breathing evened out in moments. Spot allowed himself to breath a side of relief. He took his cap off, walked to the wall and slid down it. Laying his cane down, he ran a hand through his hair. This girl would be the death of him, he knew it.

A few moments passed by as he watched her sleeping form, before she began to shiver, even under the blanket. He stood quietly, crossed to the bed and leaned over her. Careful not to disturb her, he snapped the window shut, cringing at the sound of the rusty window closing. His eyes snapped down to her, assured somewhat when the sleeping girl didn't even stir.

Nerves floated around in his stomach as he moved away from her. Deep down, he knew that if Rabbit was missing, it couldn't be a coincidence that Queenie just embarrassed Captain in his own territory. Then again, as close as Spot and Captain were, Spot couldn't imagine the other leader taking part- much less orchestrating- something like kidnapping. On the other hand, every Newsie in New York had heard about the feud between Queenie and Captain. They met the first time, Spot knew just before she moved in with the Queens boys. They had one meeting and, to his knowledge, the two never met up again until Spot brought Queenie to Captain. The one time Spot had asked, Captain said,

"Da girl's trouble. Never pulls her own weight, just bewitches guys left and right. Dey do whatever she wants. She's just trouble, Spot. Don't mess around wit dat."

Spot bit his lips, recalling the memory, and slowly made his way from the bedroom, shaking his head to clear it. Letting the moonlight guide him, the boy wondered down to the kitchen, originally intending to make himself a coffee, but settling for a beer instead. The older boys kept a stash hidden from Queenie in the back of the pantry, and Spot took the liberty of pouring himself a glass. He sat there in the kitchen for a long moment, consumed in his thoughts, yet trying to block them out. Thinking and worrying about Queenie hurt, but Spot couldn't help it. She was growing on him.

A long time passed, and the moonlight shining through the windows shifted. He finished his beer and washed out his mug, knowing full well Queenie would kill him the next morning if he didn't. Spot felt his eye lids get heavy. Making his way up the stairs as quickly as he could in the darkness, Spot grunted as he tripped over something outside Queenie's door. Looking down, he laid eyes on a half-asleep form guarding the door.

"Roller, whatcha doin' here?" Spot asked, trying to be as quiet as he could.

He kneeled down so he could be at eye level with the little boy. Fully dressed- though some of the buttons were in the wrong loops and his shirt was half tucked in, Roller sat at attention outside Queenie's door, holding his wooden sword in one hand and his slingshot in the other. He looked ready to attack any one or anything that could possibly threaten the Queen.

"Ise just-"

The little boy yawned.

"Ise just heard youse guys come in and Ise was worried about Queenie."

Roller looked around, as though he was afraid someone would hear him. He leaned in, whispering to Spot.

"Wese all worried dat whoever got dat little kid in Queens is gonna try and snatch up Queenie right from under us."

Spot smiled and helped the little boy to his feet.

"So Ise told the boys Ise would keep first watch," he said, proudly displaying his toy sword and slingshot.

The older boy looked won and tousled the younger one's hair, smiling at him.

"Queenie's fine, little man. She's just tired. And so are youse."

Roller didn't look convinced.

"Tell ya what, why dontcha let me take da watch for tonight? If youse want, Ise can even tell Queenie that youse did the whole night's watch."

The little boy smiled.

"Okay, Spot."

Straightening Roller's cap, Spot said,

"Now youse gotta go to bed so Ise can take up the watch."

He turned to run to the bunk room, but spun around to face Spot.

"Youse got ya slingshot?" the little boy asked.

Whipping it out of his back pocket, Spot showed his small friend the weapon.

"Now youse gotta go to bed, little man."

Roller did what his leader said, and Spot could hear him yawn as he made his way to the bunk room. Chuckling under his breath, he gently pushed the door open. The girl sleeping in his bed did not stir as he opened the door, though she had pulled her body to the farthest corner, nearly hiding herself in the blankets. Spot sighed and crawled into bed next to her, praying that he would wake up before she did.

Making himself comfortable, Spot laid on top of the blankets, yet found it impossible to put any kind of distance between him and the girl. Her breathing came in steady pats upon his chest, and he let their rhythm pull him into a deep, carefree sleep.

** Please nominate me for the New York Newsie Awards! PLEASE! And follow me on twitter like Skitt'sGirl (My best fanfiction friend) does! Because she follows me, she knows when I'm gonna update, some chapter spoilers, and she can communicate more directly with me! It's awesome! I can't wait to see y'all on twitter! Linkage is on my profile! :D**


	22. Watching Her Sleep

**I am so sorry for the delay! If you review regularly, thank you! If not, please start now!!!**

Spot slept through the night, for the first time since he could remember, completely peacefully. He was interrupted by Queenie's door swinging open.

"Queenie, wese got-" A voice shouted as someone stepped in.

Spot's head shot up groggily from it's place on Queenie's pillow.

"Ah, shit, boss. Tell me you didn't do what Ise think youse did," Ghost said, shaking his head.

"Ise didn't, Ghost," Spot said.

Ghost sighed.

"Thank Gawd," he breathed.

Waving his lieutenant away, Spot whispered,

"Go aways. She's sleepin'."

Rolling his eyes, Ghost lightly shut the door. Barely readjusting himself so he could look at Queenie without waking her, Spot smiled. The sunlight poured through the windows and danced across her hair. Her face was smooth and peaceful. Spot resisted the urge to reach out his hand and stroke her white skin. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fear that he would never get another chance to look at her so unabashedly again. Rubbing his fingers through his hair, Spot swallowed deeply.

"Ise gettin' soft," he thought to himself.

But he couldn't help himself. His eyes wandered down her face and to the only imperfection he could find. Cocking his head, he looked down at a little, almost imperceptible pink scar that snaked it's way from the back of her neck, around the front of her chest, and down below her shirt. Before he could wonder just how low it went below her shirt or check to see for himself, Spot simply leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the place that the scar ran over her shoulder.

"Hey, Queenie! What's for bre-"

A voice jovially made it's way into the room as the door swung open. Spot made eye contact with Jazz.

"Oh, Ise so sorry-" Jazz began.

Queenie's eyes shot open and she locked gaze with Spot. Breaking away from him, the girl jumped out of bed and cross the room.

"Queenie-" Spot began, but was quickly shut up by Queenie slamming the door as she left the room.

Silence filled the space between the two boys. Suddenly, Jazz sighed and shook his head.

"What're youse doin', Spot?"

It was rhetorical and they both knew it. Knowing his leader wouldn't respond, Jazz left the way he came. Cursing Jazz and his rotten timing because (of course) nothing could be his own fault, Spot left to sell the morning edition.

Arriving at the distribution center, Spot shot to buy his papes and called his boys to attention. He could hear the whispers circle around him, and he blocked it out. Thoughts ran through Spot's head. He knew somehow he had to help Queenie. He was interrupted, however, by a small body crashing against his.

"Is it true, Spot?" Roller asked, smiling with a light in his eyes.

Spot squatted down to be at eye level with the little boy.

"Is what true?"

Roller sighed, as thought it was obvious.

"Dat youse and Queenie are in love an' ya gonna get married and Ise gonna be ya best man and ya gonna a little nice house and Queenie's gonna make ya pies and den youse gonna have little Spot Juniors and youse-"

"No!" Spot said, almost too harshly.

The little boy looked confused.

"So youse don't love Queenie?" He asked.

Spot sighed.

"Youse ask too many questions, kid."

Knowing not to argue with his leader, Roller shut his mouth. Once the boys had his papes, Spot stood on a crate.

"Hey!" he shouted, stomping his cane for emphasis.

Every eye turned to the leader.

"So, as youse boys know, Queenie's been real upset-"

A voice from the back of the crowd piped up.

"Youse know her better den anyone, huh, Spot?"

Small, almost embarrassed chuckles rippled across the boys, but Spot continued his speech.

"About dat little boy from Queens goin' missin'-"

General murmurs spread across the crowd.

"So, after youse boys finish sellin' today, Ise would see it as a personal favor-"

"Was dat what Queenie was givin' ya last night? A personal favor?"

Stunned silence filled the entire crowd. Calmly, Spot stepped off of the box and toward the voice. Finding the face of Seltzer, Spot finished as he walked toward him.

"-If you could go out and look for him. Youse all seen him before?"

Spot's newsies nodded.

"Den move out."

Roller shrunk back into a corner to wait for Spot, but the rest of the newsies followed their order. Spot stuck out his cane to block Seltzer's path.

"Youse never gonna speak about Queenie dat way again, ya understand? She's gonna hear about it, and Ise gonna let her deal wit youse."

Spinning on his heel, Spot started to walk away.

"Youse ever heard how she got West to let her stay?"

Spot stopped and turned to face him.

"Yeah. She was lettin' him-"

Without warning, a little wooden sword started mercilessly beating Seltzer.

"Roller! Stop!" Spot said, grabbing the little boy and swinging him over his shoulder effortlessly.

"Wese can't let him talk about Queenie dat way!" Roller shouted, kicking and beating against Spot to let him go.

Finally, Spot carried him to their selling spot in the park and dropped the little kid in the green grass. Roller huffed out a sigh and pointedly refused to look at Spot. The elder sat down, laying his papes beside him, completely at ease.

"He shouldn't talk about Queenie dat way."

Spot nodded.

"I know."

Roller looked at the older boy.

"Den why did youse let 'im?"

The leader of Brooklyn paused for a long moment before answering, trying to decide what to say.

"Ise know Seltzer's lyin'. All da guys know he's lyin'. He's just trying to make trouble. He's gonna shut up sooner or later."

Roller nodded.

"I guess youse right."

Spot smirked.

"Ise always am."


	23. The Return of Rabbit

**I know, it's been too long! I'm sorry!!! :) Just so you all know, I'm estimating about seven more chapters of this story, and no sequel plans as of yet. I'm trying to speed this story along, as I think I'm dragging it out WAY too much. Haha. Please Read and Review!**

Queenie swept the floor of the Lodging House for the twelfth time that evening. She could hear the clock at the desk ticking away as the sky darkened. The little, nearly broken bell on the old clock struck eleven o'clock and the girl threw down the broom with a shout of anger. Not one boy had returned since the morning edition.

Throwing herself onto one of the broken down chairs, she picked up the mending. Trying to distract herself, she tried to stitch a huge patch onto one of Spot's shirts. Of course, she pricked her self every time she tried to pull the needle through the material, and eventually gave up on the sewing. She rose from her seat.

"I'll just have to go find them," she sighed, shrugging on her shawl and heading for the door.

Just as she moved to open it, the door swung open, letting a blast of near-arctic winds blow into the Lodging House. Three newsies stumbled in. Queenie noticed that Spot was clinging something tightly to him.

"What is that?" She asked.

But Spot wasn't listening to her. He moved quickly past her, flanked by Roller and Ghost, to the couch. He laid the bundle on the couch near the dying fireplace as he barked out orders.

"Ghost! Get dat fire going and get s'more blankets. Roller! Get water, now!"

The two boys scampered off to follow their orders as Spot dutifully tended to the nearly lifeless lump on the threadbare couch. Queenie wanted to go near it, but was too afraid. In her heart, she knew what- or rather, who- Spot had brought in from the cold.

"Youse can come over here, Queenie. He's gonna be alright. Wese just tryin' to get 'im warm."

Sighing, the girl scuffled over toward the couch and knelt down to look at the young boy.

"Oh, Rabbit," she sighed, reaching out to stroke his little face lightly.

Rabbit was dead asleep and freezing under Queenie's hand. The young girl didn't look away from the little boy, but spoke to Spot.

"Where did you find him?"

It was Ghost who answered as he tended the fire.

"Wese found 'im cuddled up with some papes in an alley way, dead asleep."

Relieved that he hadn't been taken by Captain, Queenie thanked the boys in a near-whisper.

"Ah, it was all Spot's idea. Wese just wanted to help."

Queenie looked at the Leader of Brooklyn quizzically.

"You did this for me?" she asked, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

Spot nodded silently.

"Thank you, Spot. You have no idea-"

He cut her off.

"Don't youse go on getting all emotional on me, Queenie. Ise was just doin' da right thing."

Queenie chuckled.

"I suppose that's why it surprised me so much," she muttered under her breath.

She turned back to the little boy on the couch and sighed.

"What are we going to do with him?"

Ghost walked over toward him.

"Well, what wese thinking is just puttin' 'im on a spit and roastin' 'im wit'some nice vegetables, but dat's really up to you-"

The girl smacked the boy's arm.

"That's not funny. Now, will you bring him back?"

The boy nodded.

"If dat's what youse want. Ise can bring 'im back in da morning."

Spot watched their interaction with jealous eyes. Why was it that every boy among them so easily got along with her, but she could not even stand to be near him for more than a few minutes?

"Okay, now, Ghost, youse go and find da boys and tell 'im wese found da kid. If youse find Cutter, youse can send 'im out too."

Ghost nodded and ran out of the door.

"Ise can watch 'im, Queenie. Youse can go to bed," Roller said through a yawn.

Lightly laughing, Queenie shook her head.

"Oh, no, thank you, Roller. You worked so hard today. I know you need your rest. Now, go upstairs and Spot will tuck you in."

She tousled the little boy's hair and he turned to Spot with wide, excited eyes.

"Will ya, Spot? Really?"

Spot looked at Queenie and sighed, knowing that he could not argue. She had dismissed him and he knew it. No matter how grateful she was, she had still caught him in her bed that morning, and he knew she could not forget that so easily.

"Yeah, kid. C'mon."

Roller started up the stairs, but stopped halfway and bolted back to Queenie.

"G'night, Queenie," he said, giving her a big hug, which she returned with a smile.

"Good night, Roller."

Turning away from Queenie, the little boy gave Spot a pointed look.

"Aren't youse gonna tell Queenie goodnight?" he asked, impatiently.

Spot sighed.

"Eh, Goodnight, Queenie?"

Throwing a careless wave over her shoulder in acknowledgement, Queenie did not respond. Getting closer to Spot, Roller stage whispered,

"Maybe if youse acted like youse cared a little more, like me, youse might get a better goodnight."

Spot didn't expect a reaction out of the girl, but he knew an opportunity when he saw it. Using the little boy's words as excuse, he stepped across the floor to Queenie, he leaned down and hugged her to him, before lightly touching his lips to her cheek.

"Goodnight, Queenie," he whispered.

Without waiting for a reply from the girl, Spot started walking up the stairs.

"Come on, kid. Time for bed."

Smiling at his two leaders, Roller happily obliged.

**This chapter is dedicated to SkittsGirl, an amazing author and friend. :)**


	24. Isn't So Bad

**Here you go, my dears!**

The next morning, Queenie woke to the sound of three loud knocks on the front door. Shooting up from her seat on the floor defensively, she opened her eyes to the dull morning light. Standing still for a moment, Queenie waited for whoever was waiting outside to let themselves in as most boys did. However, after a long pause, another sharp three knocks came from the door. Spot, after being roused from his sleep on the stairway's landing, sprinted down to answer the door. Gently pushing a useless Queenie aside, he threw open the front door.

"Bear-" Queenie started, surprised.

Ignoring her, he pushed past.

"Where is he?" Bear asked, furiously.

Spot jumped in front of the large Queens' newsie.

"Youse can't be here, and youse know it. Wese all agreed dat-"

Bear shoved the other newsie away.

"Ise don't give a damn, Brooklyn. Cutter told me youse had 'im. Where is he?"

Finally looking over at the old couch, Bear laid his sight on his little brother. Walking over, the boy's eyes softened. When he reached the decrepit sofa with the tiny boy, Bear sunk to his knees.

"What did youse do to him?" He asked, shooting an accusing look to Spot.

The leader of Brooklyn gripped his cane harshly, opening his mouth to answer, but Queenie cut him off. Kneeling by her friend, she smiled and whispered so as not to wake the sleeping Rabbit.

"Spot helped, Bear! He and some of the boys found Rabbit and brought him back here so he wouldn't die on the street. Spot organized search parties and everything."

Locking eyes with the girl before looking back to Spot, Bear sighed.

"What did youse do to _her?_" He asked.

Queenie shook her head.

"He hasn't done anything to me," she said, defensively.

Bear cracked a smile and brushed his fist against Queenie's shoulder in jest.

"Now dat's da Alex I know."

The girl felt a pang in her heart at the use of her real name. Scooping up his little brother and throwing him over his shoulder, Bear tipped his head in Queenie's direction.

"G'morning. Ise gonna see youse in a few days."

He smiled a face-consuming smile.

"Da boys are just jumping wit excitement. Youse been really missed back home."

Spot grimaced as Bear mentioned the end of the bet and the end of Queenie's time in Brooklyn.

"Youse gotta go, Bear."

Opening the door, Spot's eyes made it very clear that Bear had overstayed his welcome.

"Now, don't youse go gettin' your pants in a knot. Ise goin'."

But the little boy on his big brother's shoulder let his eyes roll open.

"Alex!" he said, struggling to get from Bear's grip.

The girl stood and walked over to the younger boy as her old friend let him down.

"Ise missed youse, Alex! Ise left da Lodging house tryin' ta find youse, but Ise couldn't find youse nowheres and-"

Silence passed and he threw himself into the girl's arms and squeezed as though he would never let her go.

"Ise love you," he breathed into her shoulder.

Queenie smiled, happy tears bubbling in her eyes. How she loved the little boy in her arms.

"I love you, too, Rabbit," she said, clinging onto him just as tightly as he held her.

The little boy whispered to her,

"Ise want youse to come home, Alex."

Squeezing the little boy one last time, the girl gave him back to Bear, who placed the younger boy up on his shoulder.

"I have to stay, Rabbit."

She sighed as she saw the little boy's face fall in agony.

"No! Alex-! No! Ise want-"

Ignoring the temper-tantrum his brother was throwing, Bear courteously nodded to Queenie and walked out the door.

"We'se gonna be seeing youse soon, Queenie," he said, pulling the door closed after him.

The door slammed with the sound of wood slapping against wood and Queenie jumped. Her gaze was vacant and expressionless as her heart turned in her chest. Like a ghost, the girl made her way to the couch and collapsed, as though her knees simply gave out from underneath her. She remembered the family of boys she left behind in Queens. Her love for them filled her. But she looked up the stairs toward her new family. Brooklyn. Her new home. She loved each boy in the Lodging House, including their arrogant leader. Could she stay after the bet had expired? Could she do something like that to West? Queenie felt uncertainty and confusion fill her to the brim.

Spot watched the girl move like a specter, pale and emotionless, not quite sure what to do with himself. Though her face was free from tears and color, her eyes told everything she couldn't show. Slowly, Spot neared the girl and gently sat next to her. Laying his cane on the floor, the boy motionlessly remained by her side for a long, immeasurable moment. Until, finally, as if an angel had moved it for her, Queenie reached over to clasp Spot's hand in her own. Holding it with the strongest grip she could muster, the girl laid her head on the boy's shoulder and let her eyes slide close.

"This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be," she whispered, sighing after a long moment in utter contentment.

Smiling down at her, Spot felt hope flood through him.

"Right back at ya, Queenie."


	25. Afraid of That

**Yes! I know it's been a long time! But please find it in your heart to review! it would make me so happy!**

But Spot's moment of triumph was abruptly interrupted by the noise of newsies scurrying down the stairs. With the speed of lightening, Queenie released herself from Spot's grip, stood, straightened her hair, and waltzed her way into the kitchen, ready to start the day. Spot merely sat on the couch, his mouth wide agape with shock. Only Queenie would be embarrassed to be seen on the great Spot Conlon's arm. He shook his head at the outrage of it all.

"What's da word, Spot?" Jazz asked, plopping down next to his leader.

Spot looked at the boy and sighed.

"Hell if Ise know."

* * *

West sat down at the old, wooden table in his lodging house in Queens, looking around at the newsies celebrating around him. It was far past nightfall, but the party was just beginning. While technically they were rejoicing the return of their youngest friend, the real excitement was about their lost girl, Alex.

"Three more days," West muttered to himself, clenching his mug of water in his fist.

Everyone looked at the lone leader out of the corners of their eyes with pity. Their leader, always the strong and steady one, was slowly falling apart before their eyes. West grew paler by the day. He took to snapping at his boys and his temper was worse than ever. Alex usually worked to calm him, but without her in the house, West's behavior grew nearly out of control. Murmurings erupted about two weeks after losing the bet that he even took to drinking in the dark of the evenings. The boys could only pray that Alex would transform him into his old self upon her return.

"Only three more days!" Rusty said, raising his glass in a toast.

The room erupted in cheers.

"And Ise know-" he continued, standing on a chair "That wese gonna all show up in Brooklyn on Sunday ready to bring 'er home to a real party! Wese gonna show 'er a good time after what she did for us! Wese gonna show her what real men look like! Remind her that the world doesn't revolves 'round Spot Conlon!"

Again, West's newsies whooped and hollered at the top of their lungs, clinking their glasses together and starting to sing an off-key bar song.

"No!" West shouted, jumping out of his silent brood.

Instantly, the cheer and excitement was sucked from the room. Rusty looked around and chuckled uncomfortably, unsure of whether their leader was joking or serious.

"What are youse sayin', West?"

The boy stood to his full height, sighing.

"Ise said No. Youse aren't all comin' to Brooklyn on Sunday. Ise goin', and Bear's comin' with me. Other than dat, youse are all goin' to stay here."

Shouts of protests erupted.

"Hey!" he shouted over them in an attempt to quiet them.

They would not stop shouting their anger.

"Ay! Shut your faces 'fore I come 'n' do it for youse," Bear bellowed, silencing the room.

West nodded to him thankfully.

"Youse can't come. Ise sorry. Ise just don't want a fight breaking out on unfriendly territory."

A rumble of disapproval spread across the room. The leader sighed.

"Look, Ise gonna say dis and dat'll be the end of it. Do any of youse want to see Queenie hurt?"

A unanimous 'no' resounded through the room.

"And youse don't think dat they'd hurt Alex the first time they got da chance?"

Realization dawned upon the newsies, effectively quieting them all. Of course, it wasn't the real reason that West wanted to go alone. But it worked.

"Now all of youse go to bed at a decent hour tonight. Da sooner youse go to sleep, da sooner she'll be here."

Every newsie but Bear rushed up the stairs, ecstatic at the prospect of bringing Alex back sooner. When the last of them was gone, West sunk into a chair.

"Youse are such a liar, West," Bear said, laughing his deep laugh.

West looked at his friend.

"Youse aren't worried 'bout a fight. Youse just want her all to yourself."

Bear laughed when he saw the look on his leader's face. He knew that Bear spoke the truth.

"Am Ise wrong?" Bear asked.

His best friend shook his head.

"Now look, West, youse know dat youse been my best friend for a long time. And Ise not one to butt into ya business. But-"

He paused and looked up at West.

"What do youse think's gonna happen when youse get dere? Ise mean, youse really think she's gonna fall into ya arms and tell ya dat she loves ya? Youse think dat stayin' away made 'er love youse more?"

Sighing, West put his head in his hands, and was silent for a long moment. Bear stood, grabbed his cap and started to head for the door. Just before leaving, he looked at his pathetic friend.

"Ise love 'er, Bear. I loves 'er so much," West muttered.

Bear gave a breathy chuckle.

"Ise was afraid a dat."

With that, he retired to bed.


	26. The Afternoon on the Town

**I'm so sorry that I've been behind on updating! But guess what? I have the next two chapters written! Which means that if y'all review, I'll update tomorrow afternoon AND evening. :D Sound good? Please read and review! Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning, the harsh glare of the sun did not wake Queenie. A little pair of arms shaking her awake did.

"G'mornin', Queenie!" The little boy shouted.

Grudgingly, the girl pulled her eyes open.

"Ah, Good morning, Roller," she said, sitting up.

He smiled at her.

"What are you doing up, sweetie?" Queenie asked, stretching up.

Roller smiled and put his finger over his mouth.

"It's a secret," he whispered, nearly giggling from jubilance.

Queenie scowled, not one for surprises.

"Now, Roller, let's not be silly-"

She moved to get out of the bed so she could go get the Lodging House ready for her departure the next evening, but Roller pushed her back.

"Youse can't get up, Queenie! Dat's not part of the plan," he said, as though it was obvious.

Sighing, Queenie weighed her options. She might ignore whatever surprise the little boy planned. However, dashing a small boy's dreams was not part of her job description. Or, she could go along with it and just stay up until the early morning trying to get her last chores done. Queenie knew what she had to do. She stayed in bed. Happy to know he had kept her in her place, he held out his hands as though he was stopping a dog.

"Stay, Queenie. Ise gonna be right back."

The girl nodded and settled in, bracing herself for whatever he planned. A moment later, she knew. Jazz, Dealer, and Hayseed entered, each carrying something. Jazz held a tray of breakfast food, Dealer carried the morning edition, and Hayseed held a steaming decanter of coffee and a mug. Spot walked in behind them, carrying his cane.

"G'mornin', Queenie," he said, nodding to her.

Shocked, she nodded back.

"What is all of this?" she asked, pointing at the trays.

Spot, annoyed, waved for the boys to present Queenie with her breakfast.

"Breakfast in bed for da Queen," he said, smiling.

Queenie laughed and dug in to the drays of food. Putting the stale bread to her lips, she attempted to make it look as though she enjoyed it. She sipped her coffee lightly, as it was the most bitter thing she'd ever put to her lips. But it didn't matter. If the boys made it for her, it might as well be breakfast for the president himself. Pushing the empty plates away, she patted her stomach.

"Well, boys, that was good. Thank you."

All of the boys, save Spot, of course, shuffled their feet and responded in their general 'Aw, shucks' manner.

"Well, what can Ise say? Me and my boys know how to treat da ladies," Spot said, not bearing to be decent for even five minutes.

Queenie rolled her eyes.

"Boys, I do need to get ready for my departure tomorrow."

The newsies shared a secret look.

"What?" she asked, looking at the three of them.

They all stifled laughter.

"Just get dressed 'n' meet us down da stairs, eh, Queenie?" Spot offered, leading the boys out of the room.

Not like she was given much of a choice. Groaning to herself, the girl shrugged on her patchwork blue dress and tied her hair up. Nearly running down the stairs, Queenie nearly fell over at the sight that greeted her in the common room. Every Brooklyn newsie sat, waiting for her to arrive.

"Wese gonna take youse for a day on da town, Queenie. A real Brooklyn afternoon."

Again, no one gave her a choice. Hustling her out of the Lodging House, the crowd of boys attempted to sell as they walked, hawking the headline all around her.

"Cow moddas three baby chicks!" Jazz shouted.

He broke off to sell as several people asked to buy from him.

"Five story glass house to be built in Jersey!"

A few more boys broke off with each new boy until only Queenie, Spot, Ghost, and Roller remained. The four walked along, the three older listening to Roller prattle on about everything they passed.

"And look, Spot! Dere's dose street dancers wese saw dat time when wese were goin' to da club durin' da strike. Oh, dat was such a good time. Youse remember dat, Spot? Da whole gang was dere-"

Spot looked to Ghost.

"Youse still gonna come wit' us?" He asked.

Ghost shook his head and put his hand on Roller's shoulders.

"Roller 'n' Ise are gonna go and sell today,"

Roller looked up at the older three kids.

"What? But I-"

Ignoring his protests, Ghost took the little boy by the arm.

"C'mon, kid."

With that, the two left, Ghost dragging Roller behind him.

"What was that about?" Queenie asked, watching the little boy walk away.

Spot shrugged.

"No idea."

Knowing better than to argue, Queenie sighed and looked at the boy beside her.

"Well, you promised me a real Brooklyn afternoon."

Spot nodded and pointed ahead.

"And a real Brooklyn afta'noon, youse gonna get. Ise always keep me promises."

He extended his arm for Queenie to take, his lips curling in a charming smirk.

"M'lady?" he asked as the girl looked from his face to his arm.

Queenie smiled.

"Why not?"

Looping her arm through his, she let Spot lead her through Brooklyn. The streets, now booming in the late morning sun, teemed with life. Street performers tap danced on wooden crates; politicians and preachers alike vied for the attention of the masses. Ladies walked with their men, and the sun beat down on every unsuspecting Brooklynite. The freezing air blew despite the sun's rays flowing down. After a short stop for lunch, Spot guided her once more through the streets.

"Now, Spot Conlon, I expect for you to tell me this instant what is going on here. Where are we going?" Queenie asked, looking at the boy for answers.

Taking her arm without permission, Spot smirked.

"Youse just gonna have to wait."

The two walked silently, enjoying the bright day. Suddenly, Spot sharply turned into an alley.

"Dis way," he said after he had already forced her to turn.

He stopped in front of a door and rapped sharply three times with his cane.

"I hate that thing," Queenie said, pointing to the weapon that took her away from Queens.

Spot shook his head and smirked.

"Youse just jealous."

The door swung wide open, revealing a large lady wearing too much rouge and a dress two sizes too small for her frame. Her harsh look softened the moment she saw Spot.

"Aw, Conlon," she said in a maternal tone, reaching out to lightly touch his cheek.

Spot blushed, ashamed that Queenie was seeing Madame's display. Madame's gaze switched to Queenie.

"And dis must be-"

The King of Brooklyn nodded quickly, hoping to cut Madame off before she ran Spot's surprise aground.

"Yes m'am. Dis is her."

Madame nodded, seeming to approve Queenie after giving her a once-over.

"Youse are very beautiful, my dear. Spot here's a lucky boy."

A beat passed and Madame smiled a curvy smile that said she knew something that no one else did.

"But Ise thinks he already knows dat."

Questions flew through Queenie's mind, but Madame kept her from speaking them with a quick Irish curse.

"Ise sorry. Youse two gonna be late! Spot, everything's ready for youse upstairs. Youse two best have a good time."

Madame opened the door further to let the two in. Queenie tried to keep her eyes down, trying to ignore the rooms full of groaning men and half-dressed women rushing through the halls.

"Just up dis way," Spot said, lightly taking her hand and guiding her up a set of narrow steps.

When they reached the top, he pushed open the door and climbed out onto the roof. A large smile spread across his face. A large blanket was spread out on the level surface with a pitcher of Seltzer and a fresh box of Cracker Jacks sitting on top of it.

"Here we are," Spot said, showing Queenie the set up.

The girl's eyebrows furrowed as she saw the picnic.

"What is all of this for?"

Spot merely used his cane to point off of the roof.

"Look."

Queenie turned her head to look at whatever was so important.

"Dat's Washington Park. Youse ever seen a baseball game?" Spot asked, motioning that she should sit.

Shaking her head, she did as he wished and sat on the blanket.

"I've heard of it, but never-"

The boy's eyes lit up like a small child's in a candy store, but he kept his voice pompous and controlled.

"Well, den, Ise gonna have to teach you, won't I? Ise couldn't get real tickets, but Ise figured dis would be even better."

Queenie smiled and nodded, looking at Washington Park II.

"This is a wonderful view."

Several players walked across the field, stretching and tossing small balls around.

"Dese are da Brooklyn Superbas." he said, pointing to the boys in blue and white uniforms, "And dose-" he pointed to the ones in orange and brown, "Are da Orioles."

As the game unfolded, Spot sat beside his girl, explaining how the game worked. By the ninth inning and Brickyard Kennedy's game winning homerun, Queenie knew more about baseball than any woman would ever want to know. But, when Brickyard's bat hit the ball out of the park, Queenie shot to her feet and cheered at the top of her voice for him.

"Did you see that?" she asked Spot, still excited about seeing her first homerun.

He nodded, enjoying the ability to freely peruse her flushed face and the glimmer in her bright eyes.

"I sure did, Queenie."

The teams lined up and began to shake hands.

"Wait-" she asked, looking around like a lost child, "What's happening?"

Spot chuckled at her.

"Da game's over, Queenie."

Her eyes widened.

"But- It can't be!"

Taking her hand and helping her to her feet, Spot shrugged.

"Dat's da way dese things work, Queenie. Wese can always come back," he said, moving toward the door.

Queenie's next words stopped him.

"But I can't, Spot. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Spot, glad she couldn't see his face, winced at her words.

"If your keeper'll let youse out, youse can come back any time youse want."

But inside, they both knew that if Queenie went back to Queens, she would never return to Brooklyn.

* * *

**How was it? Please read and review! **


	27. The Surprise

**Hey everyone! Please read and review and I'll update again tonight!**

* * *

The two walked back to the Lodging House in silence, both wrapped in their own thoughts. The sun finally set behind the buildings and the chilled air blew through them. By the time they neared their residence, night almost sank completely over the young couple.

Spot glanced at the girl walking next to him from the corner of his eye. She stared blankly ahead, watching the road in front of her. A blue dress made of several different fabrics graced her figure, and Spot nearly lost his breath looking at her. He wondered how he would ever get on without her.

"Queenie-" he started wearily, but one of his newsies cut him off, running out of the Lodging House to meet them.

The newsie, named Spritz, quickly yanked his cap from his head and smiled at Queenie.

"Heya, Queenie!" he said, ignoring Spot's presence all together.

The King of Brooklyn refused to stand for that. He cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the cobblestone street. He quirked his eyebrow.

"Youse were saying?" He asked.

The boy, catching himself, tipped his head to his leader.

"Hey, Spot."

Nodding to acknowledge his presence, Spot lightly grabbed Queenie's arm.

"Wese need to be getting back, Queenie. Da boys're probably hungry by now-"

Spritz shook his head with a mischievous smile.

"Nope."

"Whatcha mean by dat?" Spot asked, looking at his newsie.

"Sorry. Ise can't tell ya," the boy said, obviously happy to know something that his leader didn't.

Spot grabbed the boy by the collar.

"Spot!" Queenie cried out, aghast at his display.

"Now, Spritz, youse got ten seconds to tell me what's goin' on and who planned it or youse gonna be sleepin' in an alley tonight."

The look in Spot's eyes told the boy that he was serious.

"Wese got a whole dinner planned for da two of youse guys. Jazz and Ghost put it t'gether. By da big fireplace in da front room. Ise wasn't s'pposed ta tell youse. It was s'pposed ta be a s'prise," he said, rushing to get the words out.

Queenie found herself nearly tearing up at the information the boy relayed. Lightly, Queenie reached out her hand and placed it on Spot's. At her touch, the king of Brooklyn's grip immediately fell.

"They made us dinner?" she confirmed, her voice soft.

Nodding, Spritz rubbed at his sore neck.

"Yes m'am."

The girl smiled.

"May we go in now, then?" she asked with a smile.

Feeling that the smile was contagious, Spritz smiled back.

"A'course youse can."

He cleared his throat and offered it to Queenie with a smile.

"M'lady?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded, moving to loop her arm through his, but once again, Spot ruined someone else's kindness.

"I believe da lady is my date, Spritz."

Knowing better than to argue, the newsie withdrew his arm.

"Wese best be gettin' Queenie inside. It's gonna snow somethin' terrible t'night," Spritz said, leading the way.

Taking Spot's arm, Queenie let herself be led into the warm lodging house where a mesmerizing sight met her eyes. The room, once covered in dust, mud, and soot, looked spotless. She saw no trace of it's former grime or filth. She saw that the boys attempted to make the room look like a fancy restaurant. Smiling as she took everything in, she willed herself not to cry for joy. Half burnt candles burned in rusting candle sticks that they probably found in trash bins sat on the table, and wilting flowers probably bought from a penny seller filled a beer bottle which served as a center piece. Two borrowed plates from Tibby's sat in front of the chairs on either end of the table, and two glasses from their own kitchen sat beside. The warmth from the fire place filled the room, and lit up Queenie's face.

"Lady and gentleman, I am proud to present youse guys' dinner. Made by our own chefs M'sieur Roller, and M'sieur Hayseed. Enjoy."

With a wave of his hand, the two boys walked out from the kitchen carrying sandwiches, small vegetables, and two small pieces of chocolate.

"Thank you," Queenie said to each boy as he filled her plate.

The girl pointedly looked at the boy across from her. Taking the hint, Spot grudgingly thanked each of them as well.

Jazz smiled at the two.

"Will eider a' youse be needin' anything else?"

Queenie shook her head, and Jazz knew better than to wait for a smart aleck response from Spot.

"Well, den, Ise best be goin'. Knock on da kitchen door if youse two need anythin'."

With that, Jazz left the two in the front room, totally alone.

* * *

**Oh my gosh! What will happen next? Oh, well! Review! If I get enough reviews, I'll update tonight!**


	28. On the Stoop

**Lovely Reviewers! You rock! I promised a double post, didn't I? enjoy! Please read and review! This is my favorite chapter, I think!**

* * *

The two stared at each other across the table for a long moment. Silence filled the room as they gazed into each other's eyes. And then, without warning, both burst out laughing.

"What was-" Spot asked, pointing toward the kitchen.

Queenie dismissed his question with a wave of her hand.

"Don't worry about it. We're getting a free meal," she said, winking at him.

Spot nearly fell out of his seat at the sight of the wink. Queenie being fun? Inconceivable. He took a large bite out of his sandwich and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Youse know-" he said, after a few bites, "Dis is kinda nice a' da boys, dontcha think?"

The girl across from him quirked her eyebrow.

"You planned this, didn't you, Spot Conlon?"

Surprised that for the first time he was actually innocent, Spot shook his head emphatically.

"No, Ise didn't, Queenie. But Ise glad dat dey did."

Queenie looked up from her sandwich to see the firelight glinting off of Spot's eyes. Sincerity burned right along side the flames. The weight of his words took hold of her and she coughed to break the spell. Looking away from him, she managed to get a hold of herself once more.

"Well, yes, it is very nice of them."

She rose to her feet, trying to stomach the wave of emotion that hit her.

"If you'll excuse me."

Queenie rushed upstairs to her room, glad when the door shut and she finally could be alone. She needed to think. Spot Conlon, the most feared newsie in New York, loved her. Of that, she could not have been surer. She thought back to the morning she rested at his side after Bear brought Rabbit home. His warmth radiated through her skin and heated her to the bone. She felt something when she was with him. But could it be love? She groaned and ran a frustrated hand through her hair.

Then she remembered something.

"_Hey-uh- Queenie? Yosue gotta sec?" Rusty asked after their daily fight lessons._

_The girl nodded._

"_Sure. What is on your mind, Rusty?"_

_He sat down next to her and just went out with it._

"_Do youse love West?"_

_The words hit Queenie like an arrow to the heart._

"_What?" she asked, hoping she had heard wrong._

_She hadn't._

"_Do youse love West?" he repeated._

_Queenie slumped and thought for a moment._

"_I don't know."_

_Rusty laughed._

"_Would youse die for 'im?" he asked._

_His friend looked up at him, confused._

"_Excuse me?"_

_The boy shrugged._

"_Dat's how I think youse can figure it out. If you'd die for 'im, youse love 'im. But if you wouldn't, den I don't guess youse love him."_

_A beat passed between the two friends._

"_Just a s'ggestion."_

So, Queenie asked herself.

"Would I die for Spot Conlon?"

After watching her walk up the stairs, Spot sighed, laying his head down on a clear space on the table in defeat.

"She ain't never gonna love me," he thought to himself.

What did the future hold for him if Queenie refused to remain in it? If she returned to Queens, she never would return. Everyone knew that. West would probably- Spot shook thoughts of West from his head as quickly as they came. He refused to waste his last night with Queenie thinking about that slime ball.

"He's not even good enough fa her," he muttered into the table.

He thought of the girl who invaded his life. The girl who made enemies wherever she went and friends wherever she stayed. The girl who forced herself to sleep on the floor on principle of not wanting to sleep in Spot's bed. The girl who refused to buy fabric to make a new dress for herself, but would spend all of her funds on food for boys she barely knew. The girl who could sell 50 papes in a matter of minutes. The girl with the entrancing eyes and the Cheshire Cat's smile.

That girl owned his heart. He groaned at the thought of going soft so quickly.

"Are you okay, Spot?" A feminine voice asked from behind him..

Spot threw his head up and rubbed his eyes.

"Ah, yeah, Queenie. Ise alright. How are youse?"

Queenie returned to her chair at the table.

"Alright. I just needed a moment."

The boy nodded.

"So-" he cleared his throat and prepared himself for the worst, "Are youse excited to be going back to Queens?"

Not entirely aware that her eyes grew to the size of wagon wheels at the question, Queenie swallowed deeply.

"Well, Spot, I suppose that I-"

Jazz swung the kitchen door open.

"Are youse two doing-"

"We're fine!" Spot and Queenie shouted at him, cutting the boy off simultaneously.

Another breath of silence hung in the room, clinging to the two teenagers. Spot looked at the floor, not letting her see the emotion in his eyes.

"If it helps youse any, Queenie, Ise don't want youse to leave."

But then he became himself once more.

"Dat don't mean Ise like youse or anythin. It's just been nice to have some help around heres. Ise was havin' to do everythin' myself back before youse showed up."

Queenie smiled.

"Is that so?" She asked, standing and walking toward him.

He nodded, smirking.

"Yeah."

The girl caught sight of several newsies peeking out of the kitchen door to see the commotion. She lowered her voice to a mere whisper.

"Come on out to the front steps with me."

Spot looked up at her as though she grew an extra eye.

"It's nearly freezing!" he responded.

Queenie grabbed her shawl and flounced to the entrance of the building.

"I suppose you're just a yellow-bellied chicken, then," she said nonchalantly as she opened the door and stepped out into the dark NewYork night.

Of course, as he always did and knew he always would, Spot followed.

"Your newsies were spying on us, Spot."

The leader nodded.

"Ise sorry."

Queenie shook her head.

"So, Spot. Why do you really not want me to leave?"

She knew it was a long shot question. She was fully aware that he probably would not answer the way she hoped he would. She lived in Brooklyn long enough to know that Spot Conlon has little to no compassion or feeling. Queenie looked into his eyes and took a deep breath in, praying for a miracle. Almost in reply to her silent prayer, Spot's eyes softened.

"Why are youse even askin'? Ise gotta feelin' youse already know da answer," he whispered, his eyes betraying the torment he felt inside.

Spot did not want this girl using his feelings against him. She was, after all, West's girl. Reaching up and lighting placing a shivering hand on the boy's cheek, Queenie sighed with a smile.

"Because sometimes it's nice to hear you say something nice."

Placing his cane on the ground, the Leader of Brooklyn swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Queenie. Ise think youse are beautiful and smart and da most amazing thing on dis earth. Getting to have youse here since the beginning of dis bet has been one of da best things to happen to me."

His words were awkward and broken, but she knew that it was a good start. Queenie placed her hand fully on his cheek and pulled his face closer to hers.

"Now," she began, slapping a smirk on her lips, "was that so hard?"

Inside the kitchen, the Brooklyn newsies crowded around a small window that peered out onto the street. Every newsie's eyes were trained on the couple on the front stoop.

"See? Told youse all! Gonna collect my winnings now," Dealer said, holding out his hand.

Several kid slapped coins in it.

"Oh, dat's nice! D'ya think dey're in love?" Roller asked.

Hayseed chuckled.

"Sure, kid. Dey're in love. And Santa Claus is me uncle on me modda's side."

Roller's eyes grew wide as he pulled his eyes away from the whispering couple just outside the window.

"Really?"

The older boy merely tousled his hair.

"But she's leaving tomorrow, ain't she? What was da point?" Spritz asked, jumping on someone's back for a better view.

Jazz turned from the window and looked at the other newsie.

"Why do youse gotta be a fun ruiner all da time? We got 'em together. Dey love each odda. Be happy 'bout dat, dumbass."

He looked back to the window and sighed.

"Well, Ise gonna give it a week," Ghost said.

Balling his hand into a fist, Jazz turned and held it up to Ghost.

"Youse wanna say dat again?"

Within seconds, a fight broke out.

But, the couple stood completely oblivious to the fighting going on inside. And, as a gentle snow fell over Brooklyn, the two shared a small, perfect kiss.

* * *

**How did you like it? Please read and review!**


	29. The Exchange

**Here we go, my dears! Lots of drama near the end of the story! Please read and review! Enjoy!**

* * *

An hour later, the couple sat on Queenie's bed, watching the snow fall on the city outside. The girl laid her head on the boy's shoulder, letting her head rise and fall with his steady breaths.

"Youse asleep, Queenie?" he whispered, putting his arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer to him.

She shook her head at him, keeping her eyes closed.

"No, Spot. I'm awake. I'm just thinking."

He kissed the top of her head with a smile.

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" he asked.

Queenie chuckled.

"Tomorrow," she whispered.

Spot's breath caught. In the excitement, he nearly forgot all about it. After a moment of silence, Queenie looked up at him with her wide eyes.

"The bet is over tomorrow. I have to go home," she said, as though he needed reminding.

Swallowing hard, Spot ignored the pang in his chest. After all the time she spent in Brooklyn, she still thought of Queens as home. Groaning angrily, the boy broke apart from her.

"Well, den. I guess youse gonna do what youse gotta do, huh?" he said, looking every where in the room but at her.

He rose to his feet, firmly planting them on the hardwood floor. Queenie gazed up with confusion filling her eyes.

"Why are you upset?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

Turning to look at the girl in his bed, Spot laughed humorlessly.

"Ise just don't believe youse wanna go back to 'im. After everythin', youse don't wanna stay here-"

Queenie laughed under her breath and rose to her feet. Spot shivered as her hand sat on his shoulder.

"It's not that I don't want to stay with you. You must know that."

Spot did not look convinced as he rolled his eyes at her.

"But I have to go home, Spot. What choice do I have? The bet was only supposed to last for so long. You had to know that I-"

Spot shrugged her arm away.

"Ise don't want youse to go back to West, Queenie. Ise can't stand da thought of it."

Walking over to meet him, the girl laid her hand on his cheek.

"I have to go back to him, Spot. I owe it to him."

He raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I only just got youse, Queenie. Ise don't want to lose youse."

Smiling, she leaned up to place a small kiss on the boy's cheek.

"You won't lose me. I promise. I'll always be right here."

And in a moment of cliche love, Queenie placed her hand over his heart.

"I'll always be here."

* * *

The next morning, with the rest of the newsies still tucked into their beds, the two left for the Brooklyn/Queens border alone. The sun rose over the buildings slowly, as though afraid of what was going to transpire. Snow dusted over the pair as they ghosted through the streets. When the two finally arrived, West was nowhere to be found. Hope rose in the Brooklyn leader.

"Looks like your knight in shinin' armor's not comin', Queenie," Spot said, smirking.

Leaning down to catch her lips in a kiss, the leader of Brooklyn cheered internally.

"This isn't proper," Queenie said, smiling as she pushed the boy away.

He smirked down at her.

"Ise know dat," he said, wrapping his arm around her.

But almost as soon as he touched her, a loud voiced boomed across the street, ripping Spot from the girl.

"Let her go, Conlon. She's mine now."

West grabbed her by the hand and wrapped her in her hug as Bear looked on.

"How's my girl doin'?" West asked, smiling down at her.

Queenie smiled back at him.

"I'm doing well, actually," she responded.

Bear grabbed her bag from her reach.

"Ise gonna take her home where she belongs now, Conlon. Eh?

He reached out to grab Spot's hand. After one long look at the girl, the Brooklyn boy took West's hand for a brief moment before walking away. Yanking out his cane, the boy tilted his head up and strutted toward his lodging house. Unbeknownst to the others, Spot blinked tears away. Trying to push the wave of emotion out of his heart, he continued to his strong walk. But before he was completely out of earshot, he heard West call to him,

"Thanks for returnin' my prize to me, Spot."

And in that moment, Queenie realized that was all she would ever be to West: a prize. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she knew what she had to do.

"C'mon, Alex. Let's go home," he said with a smirk.

West took a step away from Brooklyn, only to be stopped by a tiny voice that almost got lost in the strong wind.

"I'm not going."

The two remaining boys turned with shocked eyes toward the now small-looking girl.

"What?" West asked, turning toward her.

Taking in a deep breath, she looked up from the cobblestone street to meet West's eyes. In them, she saw no love; she saw only pride.

"I said I'm not going," she repeated.

After a moment of tense silence, West began laughing.

"Youse and Spot must've-" he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Pointing at the place where the other leader had previously stood, he continued to laugh, "He's funnier dan I took him for. How long have you two been workin' on dis joke?"

Queenie grit her teeth and looked at the boy steely.

"This is not a joke, West. And it insults me that you would take this as such."

West straightened. Queenie never spoke to him like that. He looked up at her, surprised to see a fire blazing underneath her eyes.

"Youse honestly want to stay here, wit' dat?" he asked, motioning toward Spot's retreating form.

Queenie looked between the two leaders.

"Yes, West. I do."

Closing in on her, the leader of Queens grabbed her by the arm, clenching his fingers around her slim appendage.

"You are hurting me."

He nearly laughed.

"Dis is silly. Youse don't even know what youse are sayin'. Youse are coming home."

Attempting to pull her away, West barked to Bear with a laugh,

"C'mon, Bear. Wese takin' Alex home."

She wrenched her arm out of the boy's grasp.

"I am going nowhere with you."

West looked at Bear.

"Some help, please?"

Bear merely looked down at Queenie, gauging her reaction carefully.

"Is Spot tryin' to keep youse here?" West asked.

Smiling, Queenie shook her head.

"No, he would never force me to do anything. A manner you obviously never learned," she insisted.

Anger boiled up inside of him and West's hand flew up, as though to strike her. Shutting her eyes and bracing herself, Queenie muttered,

"If it will make you feel better about this, go ahead. Hit me."

Taking a step back from the girl in shock, West ran the hand through his hair. He knew he could never hurt her. Queenie walked over to Bear and plucked her bag from his grasp, taking her leave from the pair.

"If youse walk away, youse aren't welcome in Queens anymore. Youse know dat?"

Queenie smirked and turned toward them.

"If I walk away, I won't ever need to go to Queens again," she responded, hoping the words stung him as much as the bruises on her arm stung her.

Then, she looked at Bear.

"And if you think that I will ever forget that you watched him try to hurt me, you are sorely mistaken, Bear. Rabbit would be ashamed if he knew."

Bear hung his head, and guilt gripped him.

"C'mon, Bear. Let's go."

And West, without another look in her direction, walked away from the girl he once professed to love. Feeling as though the weight of the world was off of her shoulders, Queenie walked back toward the Lodging House. Back toward home.

* * *

"And youse just let 'er go?" Jazz shouted in Spot's face.

"No, Jazz, he didn't," the lady in question answered, walking through the front door with a smile.

Every newsie in the room turned to look at the girl at the door.

"Queenie!" Several voices shouted, each attacking her.

Her smile widening with each passing second, Queenie greeted each newsie with care. And finally, when she reached Spot, she dropped her bag and enveloped him in a hug.

"This is my home," she muttered in his ear.

Tightening his grip as though he would never let her go, Spot smirked.

"I could've told youse dat."

But as a party raged in Brooklyn, darkness fell over Queens.

* * *

"Youse didn't bring her back?" Rusty shouted across the nearly empty lodging house.

West slammed the door shut behind him.

"No, Rusty. Wese didn't bring 'er back. Any more dumb questions?"

Rusty resisted the urge to throw his knife at West's head.

"And why didn't youse bring 'er back?" he asked.

Nearly growling under his breath, West poured himself a drink.

"Because she didn't wanna come home, Rusty. Nothin' Ise could do about it."

Throwing his arms up in the air, the other boy stormed over to his leader.

"Nothin' youse could do? West, youse could've dragged 'er back! What if Spot hurts her? What if he's been tryin' to keep 'er dere against 'er will? Youse ever thought 'bout dat?" he shouted.

Slamming his empty glass on the table, the leader of Queens stalked toward the smaller newsie.

"A'course I thought 'bout dat, Rusty. What do youse take me for?"

Laughing, Rusty poured himself a drink.

"A coward. A weak coward."

Grabbing the drink from the other boy's hand, West slapped him.

"Youse wanna say dat again?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. Youse are a weak, pathetic coward, West. Youse don't deserve 'er. And youse know what? Youse aren't a leader. Youse don't deserve to be a leader. And youse never did."

Grabbing his knife and finishing off the bottle of cheap whiskey in one swig, Rusty moved to storm out of the Lodging House.

"Where are youse going?" West called after him.

Rusty turned.

"Ise goin' to make sure dat by dis time tomorrow youse aren't da leader of dis borough. Youse best start searchin' da want ads, West. Da Queens newsies are gonna revolt once dey hear 'bout dis."

And without another word, the dark newsie left the building to begin the revolt.

* * *

**So how was it? Please let me know! Please read and review! It means so much to me!**


	30. An Uprising in Queens

**I know that I told you this would be the last chapter. Well, that isn't the case. There will be one more chapter after this. :) Please read and review.**

* * *

Rusty wasted no time. He came across Butch and Rabbit first. The two walked along a sidewalk, hawking their respective headlines. Rusty busted in between the two of them. Grabbing Butch by the arm and yanking him aside, he whispered,

"He didn't bring Alex back."

After the moment it took for the information to sink in, Butch exploded.

"What?" he shouted, taking off his cap and tossing it on the sidewalk.

Rabbit bounded up with wide eyes.

"What's happenin'?" he asked, tugging on Rusty's shirt.

The older boy pushed the younger one away with gentle force.

"Nothin', kid. Grown up stuff," Rusty said through gritted teeth.

All the while, Butch angrily muttered to himself as he rescued his hat from the concrete.

"So, what are wese gonna do, Rust?"

Jumping up in between them, Rabbit looked up indignantly at the other boys.

"Do about what?"

One look from Rusty and Butch knew exactly what they were meant do.

"We're gonna take 'im down?"

Silently, Rusty nodded.

"And youse gonna take over?"

A simple nod came in response. Butch dusted off his cap with a look of grim resolution. Placing it on his head, he nodded to the boy across from him.

"I'll go 'n' spread da word to some a da boys. Youse think some won't join?"

Rusty shrugged.

"Some a' dem didn't like Alex dat much, ya know?"

All the while, Rabbit watched the two boys with intense curiosity and growing annoyance.

"Who didn't like Alex?" He asked, jumping to defend her honor.

Rusty looked down at the little boy.

"Why don't youse go and find ya brother?"

Rabbit sighed and stomped his foot.

"He's not here. He's gettin' Alex from Brooklyn. E'ry one knows dat, Rust!"

Butch looked uneasily at the other boy.

"Look, eh, kid, Alex ain't comin' back."

Rabbit looked up at Butch with confusion marring his eyes.

"'Course she is. West told me just dis mornin' dat he and me brother was goin' to get her. He'd never go back on a promise. Right, Rust?"

He swiveled his head to look up at the other boy, who shook his head.

"No, Rabbit. Hese just left her dere."

A look of shear devastation washing over his face, and Rabbit sunk to sit on the curb. After a moment, he wiped tears away with his sleeve and spoke.

"Den-" the little boy paused, "What are youse two doin'?"

Looking at each other first, the older two sighed.

"Wese gonna make sure dat hese never gonna be able to make a bad decision like dat again," Rusty said, totally resolved to his cause.

"Good. How do Ise getta help?" he asked, springing to his feet with newfound determination.

Shaking his head, Butch spoke first.

"Youse get to go back to da Lodging House. Dis could get dangerous and wese don't want youse to get hurt."

Rabbit opened his mouth to cut in, but Rusty cut him off smoothly as he tousled the young boy's hair.

"Wese are gonna need someone to hold down da fort back home. Someone to keep da place safe. Can youse do dat?"

Jubilant at the thought of getting to be important, Rabbit saluted the older boys and took off toward the lodging house. Once he flew from sight, the remaining newsies began planning.

"Ise'll take da North; youse take da south?" Rusty asked.

Butch nodded.

"Hese had dis a long time comin', ain't he?" he asked in response.

Smirking, the other boy adjusted his cap.

"Hese had it comin' since he let hers go," he confirmed.

Nodding to his fellow newsie, Rusty took off toward the northern most parts of the borough. Gaining support as the day went on, the boy refused to be quiet about their intentions.

* * *

"Youse can tell Spot dat wese goin' to take West down. Ise know he didn't much like West and wese could sure use Brooklyn's support in all a' dis."

Cutter looked unsure.

"Just tell 'im. Hese gonna at least be happy dat it's finally happenin'. Wese just want 'im to know dat hese more den welcome to help us out. Ya dig?"

The birdie nodded and took off in the direction of Spot's lodging house.

* * *

It didn't take long for news to reach West, Bear, and their followers, either. Ten newsies sat with them at a crowded table in Mosca's, a little Italian restaurant by the lodging house.

"Youse think dey're gonna want a fight?" Bear asked his friend.

West took the last swig of his drink.

"Dey may not want one. But dey got one. Dat's for sure."

He shoved himself away from the table and walked to the window.

"Spot Conlon took my girl. Hese ain't gonna be da reason I lose dis territory, too."

The newsies nodded and grumbled their agreement.

"Wese wait until later t'night. Den wese gonna find 'em and remind 'em who runs Queens."

Moving back to his chair, West ordered another drink and settled in to wait for darkness to fall over his lands.

* * *

Spot and Queenie sat in front of the fire, simply enjoying each other's company while their newsies trickled in. Night fell on Brooklyn as steadily as the snow did, but they paid no mind.

"Why did youse stay?"

The question, out of the blue, confused Queenie.

"What?" she asked.

He turned to look at her.

"Youse heard me. Why did youse stay?"

She smiled.

"Didn't you hear me when I got here? This is my home."

Chuckling, he smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

"Dat's all?"

Queenie rolled her eyes.

"Do you want me to tell you I love you?

The boyish smirk grew wider.

"It wouldn't hurt, youse know."

Shoving his shoulder playfully, she stood and brushed her skirts off.

"You are such a baffoon, Spot Conlon!"

Standing himself, he looked at her with mock seriousness.

"Is dat so?"

She nodded.

"It is."

Maintaining the playful air, Spot shrugged.

"Well den youse can just leave my lodgin' house, missy. How 'bout dat?"

Indignantly, she scoffed and flounced toward the stairs.

"Fine. Just give me a moment to collect my things."

Running up behind her, Spot wrapped a hand around her wrist and lightly tugged her back wards. Locking her in a tight embrace, he smiled.

"You wouldn't be acting this way if the boys were in the room," she warned, with an almost sad tinge in her tone.

Spinning her around so he could face her, Spot gently tipped her head.

"Dat's true. But if da boys were in da room, Ise also couldn't do dis."

Moving down to kiss her, Spot nearly growled when the door opened, interrupting them.

"Spot?" a voice asked from across the room.

Sighing, the leader in question hung his head in defeat.

"What?" he asked, annoyance filling his tone.

Cutter moved deeper into the lodging house, clearing his throat.

"Dey're uprising in Queens."

Spot spun on his heel. The news nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"What?"

The birdie repeated himself.

"And dey want youse to help 'em. Tonight."

Those words spurned Spot into action. Completely ignoring Queenie's attempts to speak to him, he called up the stairs with gusto.

"Boys! Newsies! Brooklyn! C'mon down 'ere! Wese gotta situation."

A large smirk covered Spot's face as he gripped his cane.

"Spot?" a quiet voice asked.

He turned.

"Yeah, Queenie?" he responded, looking at his girl.

The smirk that spread across his face nearly made Queenie sick to her stomach.

"What are you going to do?"

Spot lightly patted her cheek as though she was a naïve child.

"Wese are gonna help 'em, my dearest."

Turning to address his newsies, Spot gripped his cane and used it as a sword, waving it for emphasis as he spoke.

"Boys, tonight wese gotta rare opportunity. Wese got da chance to help a neighbor a' ours. Dey gotta leader, West, who ain't so good. Hese not a leader at all, really. And wese can't have dat. Wese gotta help out Queens. Cause wese all newsies. And newsies protect each other. Am Ise right?"

Cheers rose from the newsies as tears rose in Queenie's eyes. Anger boiled in her stomach and she fought the urge to interrupt the battle cries.

"Den get going! Wese gotta be dere to help 'em!"

Spot let his newsies trickle out, one by one, before moving to follow them. But a voice stopped him.

"What are you doing?" Queenie asked, her anger flooding the room.

Smirking, Spot pointed at her with his cane.

"Defending me girl's honor."

He moved to leave, but her voice halted him once more.

"This isn't about me! This is about your stupid pride! You want to rub it in that you won and he lost. That's what you always do, Spot," Queenie shouted, her anger unbridled.

The leader turned, shock covering his features.

"Dat isn't-"

She moved toward him and hugged him with all her strength.

"You got me, Spot. I chose you. Not him."

A beat passed.

"Please don't do this, Spot."

Pushing the girl away from him, Spot let his smirk spread.

"Youse aren't gonna stop me from doin' dis, my dear. Me mind is made up. Wese gonna help dem take West down. Ise always told youse it was gonna happen sooner or later."

No sooner had he said this then he turned once more toward the door. The warmth disappeared from Queenie's eyes and she stood at her full height, tilting her head up with pride.

"You better know one thing, Spot Conlon."

He only turned his head this time, but it was enough for Queenie to see the smirk she so despised.

"What?"

Her cold words matched his cold attitude.

"If you walk out that door, I will not be here when you return. I swear to you."

He did not believe her. The chuckle that escaped his lips told her that much.

"Sure, Queenie."

He opened the door, but threw some words behind him.

"Be sure dat youse get some salve and bandages ready. Wese shouldn't get many injuries, but better to be safe, Ise guess."

Then, with a flourish, he shut the door, leaving Queenie alone.

* * *

In the freezing winter's night, Ghost looked at his leader while they walked. He, of course, heard everything through the thin door.

"Are youse sure youse wanna leave? She seemed pretty serious 'bout leavin'."

Spot laughed heartily.

"She ain't goin' nowhere."

Not convinced, Ghost took a fleeting glance back at the lodging house.

"How do youse know?"

Smirking, the Brooklyn leader looked at his friend.

"Where's she gonna go? Brooklyn's da only place she's welcome."

* * *

**Please read and review! I'd love to know what you think! One more chapter until the end of this story!**


	31. Everything Must Come to an End

Two groups of newsies came across each other in a back alley way near ten o'clock. Both leaders smirked triumphantly, as though they both thought they would come out the victor. For a tense moment, both groups walked in complete silence toward each other.

"So, West, youse just gonna go 'head and surrender?" Rusty said once they were finally toe-to-toe.

The true leader of Queens shook his head, his smirk growing larger.

"No, but I sure think youse should."

And with that, he threw the first punch, and the fighting began.

* * *

When the door closed behind Spot, Queenie stood, staring at it for a long moment. He left. He didn't care that she begged him to stay. Settling a score was more important to him than she was.

"Fine," she muttered to herself, the self pity being replaced with anger once more.

Flying up the stairs to her bedroom, Queenie put attempted to put a cap on her feelings. Nearly blinded by her tears, the girl threw her belongings into a bag. Once it was full, she threw on her shawl and made up the bed. Then, looking around the room, she realized that she had no where to go. Collapsing onto the floor, she threw her head into her hands and let her tears flow.

"You should have known better," she thought to herself, shaking her head pathetically.

She rose to her feet, moving to unpack her bag. But, a memory from her visit with Spot to Manhattan floated back to her mind.

_"Let's get rollin', Queenie," he called to her, already leaving her behind as she said her goodbyes to the Manhattan Newsies._

_"It's only a few more weeks," he whispered in her ear._

_Nodding against his chest, she fought back tears. She quickly pulled away from him and gave a quick hug to Skittery, who muttered so only she could hear,_

_"Youse ever need anything, you come find me."_

Queenie quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled some things out of her bag. Laying them across the bed and jotting a quick note, she shouldered her bag with a smile. And without a second glance behind her, the girl stepped from the lodging house and into the cold Brooklyn night.

* * *

Spot made his entrance known the second he saw the newsies brawling. Picking a stone from the ground, he picked off the two boys fighting Cutter in one fell swoop.

"Eh! Spot! Brooklyn! Dat's what I call killin' two birds wit' one stone! Am I right?" Cutter shouted with a smile.

West, who just seconds before knocked Rusty to the ground, sighed and closed his eyes.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, angrily.

"Your timin' is impeccable, Spot!" Rusty called from the pavement.

The Brooklyn leader nodded in recognition as his boys flooded the alleyway. He handed his slingshot off to Bubba and headed for West. A cold, chilling rain began to fall, distorting everything. Spot grabbed West , who had been pummeling Rusty on the ground, by the shoulder and spun him around. Landing a punch squarely on the other boy's jaw, Spot smirked as he watched him fall. A scream fell from West's lips when his head hit the concrete, and every newsie's head snapped to see the leaders face off.

Spot looked down at the other boy with cold silver eyes. A smirk slid over his lips as he reached to his belt loop. Sliding out the cane from his belt loop, he savored the sound of the gasps he heard over the rain and thunder. The boy weighed the heavy metal top in his hands, calculating the weight of what he was about to do. A look of defeat washed over West, as it had the first time they met in a fight, and Spot knew the other boy was ready. Rearing his arm back, Spot prepared to strike the final blow. But Queenie, grasping him for dear life just hours before, flashed across his memory.

"I chose you. Not him. Please don't do this," he remembered her saying.

The newsie's grip on his cane loosened. Lowering it to land softly on West's chest, pinning him to the ground, Spot spoke through gritted teeth.

"Youse are gonna leave Queens. Youse aren't welcome in Brooklyn. Youse aren't allowed to be leader of any odda borough in dis city. If youse agree, youse get five minutes to be outta da borough before I let dese boys chase after youse. If youse don't agree, youse are gonna get your head pounded into da pavement and I'll leave youse here to bleed out."

He ground his cane a little harder into the other boy's chest for emphasis.

"Youse agree?"

West furiously nodded.

"Good."

He lifted the cane from West's body. Without hesitation, the former leader leapt from the ground and began running.

"One more thing, West," Spot called out to him over the rain.

Turning, West sighed and prepared for the worst.

"Don't youse ever come near Queenie again."

After a terse nod, West took off running. A few moments passed before anyone moved.

"Well, boys, my work here is done. Ise always swoopin' in and savin' everyone's asses. Ise should start getting' paid for all dis."

Taking his cap out of his pocket and putting it on his head, Spot turned toward the mouth of the alley.

"Brooklyn! Let's go. Now."

Spot lead his newsies away from Queens as the storm worsened.

* * *

Queenie stopped running when she saw the statue. Sighing, she almost cried in relief; She walked over to the lodging house. Trying the door, the girl groaned and threw her head against the door when she found it to be locked.

"Of course," she muttered to herself. Nothing could be simple, could it?

Walking around the building, Queenie resigned herself to sleeping in the street for a night. She nearly threw herself at a brick wall, sliding down it into a sitting position. Dropping her bag next to her, Queenie looked at the back of the lodging house in defeat. She came so close. But ended up being so far. Until her eyes met a beautiful sight.

"Fire escape," the girl whispered as though it was a prayer.

Pulling herself to her feet, she grabbed up her pack and walked over to the wall. Shouldering her belongings and gathering her strength, Queenie leapt, reaching up to catch the ladder and pull it down. Cheering herself mentally when she succeeded, she scrambled toward the first window she saw.

Inside the building, little light shone. Every boy she saw slept peacefully, save the one sleeping in a bed by the window. He tossed and turned in his faded pink long-johns, restless even in his dreams. Tentatively, Queenie knocked her knuckles one the thin window pane.

Skittery jumped awake, startled by the noise. Turning his head toward the source of the disturbance, he saw a familiar face peering into the bunk room. Jumping down from his bed, he scrambled toward the soaked girl. Opening the window, he watched the girl's wide eyes fill with tears.

"Skitts. I'm in a bit of trouble."

* * *

Spot and his newsies burst into the lodging house with the force of an army returning from a long war. The sound of cheering and singing resounding through the empty building, but one voice sounded above all the others.

"Queenie! Eh, Queenie! Come 'ere!" Spot shouted, looking around for her.

His boys began to party around him. Some went to raid the kitchen and others started card games and even more began singing Irish reels. But he ignored them. Walking coolly up the stairs, Spot paid no mind that she didn't respond. The clock just struck midnight; he assumed she was sleeping. Swinging her door open, Spot began with a smirk,

"Youse got any-"

But the sight of an empty room stopped the words dead in their tracks.

"Queenie?" he asked the completely desolate bedroom.

He walked over and checked the drawers of the bureau frantically. Empty. He looked at the bed. Neatly made. But as he approached the bed, he saw things he had not seen before. A pack of clean bandages and salve sat on top of the sheets, along with a note written in the girl's finest handwriting.

_You requested bandages and salve to be waiting for you upon your return._

_Here they are._

_However, you never requested I be waiting for you when you return._

_I'm sure, then, you won't mind that I am not here. _

_You have your freshly won victory to keep you company._

_Warmest regards,_

_Alexandria Jayne "Queenie" Eariue Greir Mahony._

* * *

**SO? Final thoughts? I don't have plans for a sequel as of yet, but if you guys think I should, I will. Please review! Thank you all so, so, so much for all of your support through this whole story. It has meant the world to me. And truly, truly, truly, you all are the reason that I have continued this story and worked to make it the best I possibly could. Please let me know how you liked the ending! And if you want a sequel!**


End file.
